With This Ring (Young Justice SI) (Thread Fourteen)

[Mr Zoat]

29th October 2012
23:59 GMT -3

Orange light shines out across the subterranean cavern, the various highly toxic alchemical substances that leaked down here from the Sheeda ship being unmade.

Dr. Isley shudders in relief. "Thank you. You have no idea what it felt like to have something that unnatural under my skin."

"Under your skin?"

She holds up her left arm and points at a slightly discoloured patch of skin. As I watch, the darker green gradually retreats until it's gone entirely.

"Are you..? Alright?"

"I finally have the connection to plant life that I used to think I had. Their strength is my strength and their pain is my pain." She shrugs. "It has its down sides, but I… I like it. I like being part of something bigger than myself, even if that's literal."

"As long as you're happy." I nod and smile. "And not murdering people, then it's all good."

"No, that's not something I do any more." She does a quiet laugh-snort. "I spend more time trying to keep people alive. With all the farmland Euanthe reforested, farming… Farming stopped. That wasn't a problem for the Accala or the other forest tribes, but the people who are still living in the cities were in danger of starving."

"Cities need to be fed by large areas of countryside in order to function. Did you persuade Euanthe to spare subsistence farms?"

"No, but I gave the fruit-bearing plants around them a boost and created some new super fruits." She shakes her head. "Hugo sent some missionaries, but the people still there aren't interested in learning."

"Learning..? To live in the forest?"

"We're not ordering everyone to live in caves. The Accala have homes. But high-density settlements don't have a place in the civilization we're building. They're not good for the land or for humans."

"Um…"

"We're trying to show people a better way to live. You've seen alien civilizations; you can't tell me that every species destroys their natural habitat to industrialise."

"You'd like Alstair and O. The Dominion use some plant-based technology, but… Yes. The path that the human species has taken is… Fairly typical. Magic-based civilisation are usually less antagonistic, but there aren't all that many of those. And then you've got the problem of civilisations which don't have the fuel to fully industrialise…"

"Could I visit those worlds? If I could see what they're doing differently, it could end up helping everyone."

"I think it would be better if I invited someone from there, here. I don't think having the person whose job it is to explain humans to Euanthe should wander too far away."

We turn away from the purified pool, plant roots already poking through the earth around us to drink from it. I put an environmental shield around both of us and up we go.

"You could do that."

"I've got a lot on." She smirks. "What?"

"I have been teaching Euanthe how to be more human. Did you know that she can shift herself into a more humanlike shape?"

We land back on the surface, and I withdraw my environmental shield. It's only a short walk back to the temple-palace, and with that problem dealt with I hope that Euanthe will be in a convivial mood.

"She's fairly human-looking now."

She rolls her eyes. "Do you need me to spell it out?"

"Yes. And if people did that more often they'd find their interactions with me much more productive."

"She told me that she wanted your 'meat'."

"She told me that she thought that was a way of thanking me for rescuing her."

"Plants don't have sex. Plant reproductive systems-."

"Dad was a biology teacher. I know how plant reproduction works."

"She looks like she does because she's -spiritually- humanlike. The reason she could even think about 'meating' you is because when she's more human she has human desires."

I frown. "I-."

"She's into you. I'm trying to set you up with her, is what I'm saying."

"And I'm saying that while I appreciate your consideration and directness, I'm perfectly happy in my present relationship."

Dr. Isley's eyes widen a little. "Oh, I-. Didn't know."

"No reason why you would. Honestly, I've been assuming that the two of you were together."

"Why?"

"Your obvious reverence for her and your victim profile."

She frowns. "You thought I killed men because I was gay?"

"Not because, but if I had to guess your orientation based on how good your relationships with-."

"No, no, I mostly killed men because they were the leading polluters and industrialists, and because it was easy because I could control their minds. I… When I was Poison Ivy, I found the idea of any sort of physical intimacy with any… Meat, revolting. Any flirting was just… Contempt for their… Meat-ness."

"Ah. I apologise for my presumption. Are you..? How are you doing now?"

"I'm not seeing anyone. I know I… Could, but-. I killed a lot of people as Poison Ivy. I don't… Back.. how I was then, I wouldn't have hurt Euanthe."

I nod. "She's safe for you to be around, but you're not sure who else would be. You're scared of relapsing."

"Swamp Thing fixed my brain, but behaviors are habit-forming. I think it's… Best, if I limit how close I get to people."

"Thank you for trusting me enough to exempt me."

"Please. You're no more at risk than Euanthe."

"Are you sure? I know that I've got plant matter in my body, and Euanthe banned me from directly controlling them."

"You can control-?"

The root-covered street in front of me blisters and writhes, existing ground cover shoved aside as a… Seed pod emerges from the ground, turning from near-white to mid-green to brown as it swells to two metres in height.

"I didn't think Euanthe-?"

Bramble armour slides into place over Dr. Isley's body.

"It's not her."

The seed pod cracks and splits, husk falling away and shrivelling up to reveal a cream coloured manikin-like feminine humanoid. For a moment it looks like it's about to collapse, then it steadies itself and looks directly at me.

"Hello?"

"Orange Lantern. I am Persephone, Queen of Erebos, and I wish to petition Hephaestaean for a divorce."

 

[Mr Zoat]

30th October 2012
00:04 GMT -3

"Yeah, we… Saw this coming. Um. How blunt do you want me to be? Fair warning, I can do 'fairly' and 'very'."

The… Seedling's face has the suggestion of features, but it doesn't look like it's flexible enough to have actual expression.

"You will refuse me. What is so different between-?"

"No. I don't have the authority to approve or disapprove. I raised the issue with Hephaestaean and he's already considering it. But Hephaestaean is working on reorganising the entire pantheon so your marital status isn't a high priority. And once that's done he is still going to need Hades's support. He and I are both aware that you did not enter into your marriage entirely of your own free will, but we've really got no idea how to handle the situation in a way that doesn't just blow up in our faces."

"So he might grant my petition at some point in the future?"

"It's possible. If you wish to help your case, I strongly suggest coming up with a solution that isn't just the petition being granted and you leaving. If there's anything that could allow you and your husband to reconcile, ask and I'll make it happen."

"I have lived in fear of that man for longer than your people have had the wheel. There is nothing."

"Well… We'll try and come up with something, but it's going to be a while."

"I understand. I have grown accustomed to such disappointment."

She kneels, then the exterior of her vessel starts to harden and grow woody. After a few moments the skin is solid bark, and I see roots extruding from the lower part of the body into the ground.

"Huh."

"That was Persephone."

"Ancient Greek telepresence. Honestly, that was quite creative. I hope we end up being able to keep her on board."

"I… So… She's in the underworld?"

"Erebos." I flash her a smile. "Honestly, given your association with Euanthe, you'll probably end up going there when you die."

"Euanthe offered to have me reborn as a dryad."

"Oh? I didn't know that she could do that. Generous of her."

"She said it was…" She's staring at the bark-encrusted body. "Was because I was already so closely tied to her, she'd basically take my soul into her to make it happen."

"Sounds plausibl-."

"Does-? Does winter really happen because Demeter misses her?"

"No, of course not. Don't be ridiculous. Winter happens because that hemisphere of the planet is tilting away from the sun."

"No, I-. I know that. I just don't know how much of the stories are true."

"Demeter caused crop failures, but it wasn't over the whole of the world. If she'd tried that the gods of those regions would have stepped in and stopped her, which might have resulted in the Hellenes deciding to worship one of them instead of her."

"She doesn't want to be married to Hades."

"Correct."

"Why doesn't she just leave him?"

"Ah, well, when Demeter went crazy crops failed and a lot of people died. Do you know what happens if the God of the Dead decides to spend all his time trying to woo his wife back instead of doing his job?"

"Oh. Would he do that?"

"Oh yes, he genuinely loves her. How well do you know the story?"

"I skimmed it as Poison Ivy. Hades tricked Persephone into staying in the underworld -Erebos- with him by spiking her drink with pomegranate seeds. Demeter turned the world into a barren wasteland until Zeus stepped in and negotiated a compromise."

"The main thing is that Hades got permission from Persephone's father to marry her, and incorrectly assumed that that meant that said father had talked it through with Demeter and Persephone. He hadn't. So when Hades turned up she thought that she was being abducted, but was too intimidated to actually say anything, and as far as I know the pomegranate thing didn't happen at all."

"But Hades knows now."

"And he keeps trying to improve their relationship because he does actually love her, and it's not working."

"Have-?" Dr. Isley shakes her head. "Have they considered marriage counselling?"

"They know all of their issues. I've talked to their children and quite a few other people who know them, and there isn't really anything that could be fixed by adding a new perspective. The problem is how the relationship started, and Hades has done everything he could to fix that."

"Other than letting her get a divorce."

"That wouldn't fix the relationship." I quietly snort. "There was a… Case I was involved in a while ago, in India. A group of refugees accepted refuge in a magical land, and one of their children was made the magical heir to the place. His mother freaked out because she hates magic, grabbed him and fled. The current ruler used force to get him back."

"I don't see the link."

"The boy and Persephone both have a place of honour. Neither are mistreated, and the consequences for them going elsewhere are bad for a lot of people. In utilitarian terms, the choice between being a prince and condemning a nation to death is simple. For most of history, a woman complaining that her king-husband who loves her, is faithful to her and is actually a pretty good father was a bit brusque when they first met thousands of years ago but apologised as soon as he found out about the misunderstanding would be…"

"Unreasonable. But at the same time, it's not right to force her to be somewhere she doesn't want to be." She frowns. "If Euanthe joins the Greek pantheon, does this become our problem?"

I shrug. "Not more than it is already. Has Euanthe extended the gift of chlororeincarnation to the rest of her worshippers?"

"No, not yet. You mean that they're going to Erebos when they die?"

"Probably."

"What do we..? Get out of worshipping the other gods?"

"Someone magical overseeing the parts of existence that Euanthe isn't and doesn't care about. And given that Hephaestaean wants the gods to become more active, probably low level blessings and active guidance for the devout. For me, afterlife services was the big thing I wanted because my rings already give me a mission and a method."

"You worship Hades? That seems a bit sombre for you."

"No, I worship… In the sense of making offerings, to any gods who deserve it. My particular patron is Eris."

"What's she goddess of?"

"Chaos."

"That makes a lot of sense." She nods. "I'll tell Euanthe about this when she finishes with her tree."

"Thank you."

She nods and starts to walk back towards the temple-palace, then stops herself.

"Would Persephone like Hades if they hadn't met like that?"

"No idea. Objectively, they have the best marriage amongst the major Olympians."

"Kind of a shame they can't just start over."

"Yes, it-."

…

Huh.

 

[Mr Zoat]

30th October 2012
06:10 GMT +3

"So, your mother spoke to me."

Zagreus nods, awkwardly. "I imagine that she spoke to you about a divorce."

"Yes, she did. I want to ask you how you feel about it."

He shrugs unhappily. "I don't remember how old I was when I realised that… My parents' relationship wasn't right. It was a long time before Father had his revelation about how he could make something of Erebos. Mother… She wasn't ever cold towards me, or to Macaria or Melinoë. But Father spent a lot of time… Away from where she brought us up."

"I was mostly wondering about their relationship now."

"Father hopes that she could get interested in the gardens the awakened shades have created."

"Is she?"

"She.. was, a little. She just left whenever Father was there, and… Since he was justifiably proud of what his people had achieved with his aid and he wanted to share it with her, he was always there in the hope that she'd suddenly come around."

"Zagreus, I'm being asked to make a decision about something I know very little about. Is there..? Do you think, any chance that your mother-."

"No. Honestly, I… Think that Father should have divorced her centuries ago. At this point they're just making one another miserable."

"Has your mother given any indication as to what she would look for in a husband if she were unattached?"

"Ah-. No. That… The Gods of Olympus don't have no-fault divorce. If one party wrongs the other, things get settled in the wronged party's favour. She might have ended up being down here full time if she'd.. done anything-."

"No, no, I meant, in theory. I'm trying to work out whether or not she might have accepted your father as her husband if they'd had a better introduction."

"Do.. you.. have a time machine?"

"No, and that wouldn't work anyway. I changed the way time travel works so that it generates parallel timelines if you change anything significant. I was thinking, what would happen if we dosed them with the waters of the Lethe?"

"The whole.. point of the Lethe is to erase memories prior to rebirth. They would be mental infants. I.. don't.. think that's a good solution."

"How about a reduced dose?"

"What, exactly, are you trying to do?"

"Ideally, I'd want to remove every memory she had of interacting with him, and let him woo her from a clean slate. Obviously, she would have to agree to that in order for it to happen."

"She would forget Melinoë and Macaria. And me."

"That's why I'm hoping that it's possible to narrow the effect. Hecate's people have been working with it."

"They were making it into normal water, not anything else."

"But that still required them to understand how it works. And if they don't know how to do it, we could ask Mnemosyne and Metis to chip in."

"You're still talking about erasing thousands of years worth of memories."

"What is Persephone's contribution to human civilisation?"

"She increases plant vitality and fertility during spring."

"But she isn't the reason for it. Plants would still grow without her."

His expression hardens. "I don't appreciate you implying that my mother has wasted her life."

"Normally I'd say that if the person doing it was happy then they weren't wasting it even if they didn't help anyone else. But from the sounds of things she isn't."

He gestures towards the orchard with his right hand. "Do you think that Erebos would be this verdant if Father wasn't trying to impress her?"

"I'm not talking about rewriting history, I'm talking about rewriting-. Honestly, yes, because he was trying to create the most perfect kingdom ever having been influenced by Enlightenment European ideas, which would probably have included leisure gardens, but we're getting off the point. An objective valuation of Persephone's life isn't relevant. The fact that she's not happy and wants a change is."

He hesitates for a moment.

"Yes."

"Do you have a better idea? Because if you do I'll be extremely happy to consider it."

"I just don't think that their relationship can be fixed."

"Do you know how to convince your father of that fact?"

"I think he knows. I think-. He.. must."

"Just get him to say it, then I can talk to Hephaestaean and we can get the divorce formalised. Off you go."

Zagreus's doesn't move. After a few seconds, his face starts to fall.

"'Failure is simply the opportunity to begin again, this time more intelligently.'"

"Yep. He loves her, despite her never returning that affection. He has done for millennia, even during his worse times. He isn't going to change now, because there isn't any.. further level of rejection she would go to. What could have changed today that might make him rethink?"

"Nothing, curse you."

"What are you cursing me for? My personal life is very simple."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Talk to your parents about what's happening, and ask what they'd be willing to consider regarding extreme measures at marriage counselling. This isn't going away and there's no point in putting it off any further."

"And what will you do?"

"I'm going to talk to Hecate and Company about what can be achieved with the water of the Lethe. And reassure her about the rehabilitation of the Titans and a dozen other things. I suggest talking to your mother first, as she'll want the reassurance that something is actually happening."

"I agree. I will speak with you tomorrow."

 

[Mr Zoat]

29th October 2012
22:23 GMT -5

"Recognised, Orange Lantern, B Zero Six."

"Hey, Oh El."

As the lights fade I see Richard working at the main computer. He doesn't look around.

"You know you.. can just use my name."

"It's not a good idea to get into the habit of calling superheroes by name when they're in uniform."

I consider that for a moment, then shrug and switch into normal clothes.

"Better?"

He glances around, and smirks. "I'm not exactly a fashion expert, but I don't know I'd call it better, Paul."

"Y'all just jealous of my Orange Lantern swagger." I stroll over. "What are you working on?"

"Uncle Sam."

"Can you..? Explain to me how significant a figure he is? To Americans?"

"Ah, he hasn't been around for a while, Paul. Most Americans just think he's an old and crazy Greatest-Generation-patriotic superhero."

"Do we know what he actually is?"

"Why? Did you get done messing with the Greek gods so you need to mess with the American ones?"

"Lady Liberty defected to Japan."

"Freedom of Religion, Paul. She can be worshipped by whoever she wants."

"Just because you have the constitutionally guaranteed freedom to do something, that doesn't mean that you should use it. Find anything?"

"Well, he does act a little different, but the analysis program is working from nineteen forties video footage. It's pretty much all staged, which means his actions aren't natural."

"Did Red Tornado or Red Inferno meet him? We might be able to download a video file."

"I already asked." He calls up a video file, and I get a grainy video of a party of some sort. A square forms around one corner of the room and expands, showing Uncle Sam casually patting Human Bomb on the shoulder as Invisible Hood backs away. "Same problem. They only met him a couple of times and didn't work together."

"Alan and Jay?"

"They knew him, but it's been a long time. And we've only got the word of 'The American Goddess of Liberty'-" He sounds like he's not taking the idea entirely seriously. "-that there's anything wrong in the first place. Batman didn't notice anything wrong when he spoke to him."

"Batman's American."

"So you think he's got some kind of American-specific mind control? Bit of a stretch."

"Until you remember that Captain Nazi could influence the minds of Germans. Did Diana meet him?"

"Ah, I don't think so." He brings up a Justice League itinerary. "No. Not officially."

"Rats. So I assume that it's inconclusive."

"Well, there are differences." He calls up a couple of examples, one of Uncle Sam walking down a corridor and another of him shaking someone's hand. "But there aren't enough from the forties for me to be sure that was how he always did it. And even if it was, that doesn't mean he hasn't just changed how he does it."

"Or if he is something like Captain Nazi, he could have died and been replaced by a doppelgänger. That's not necessarily a cause for concern."

"This might be."

He brings up Uncle Sam's itinerary.

"Not that I mind, but did we get that legitimately or-."

"No."

"I suppose this probably won't go to court one way or the other. Is-?" I see what he's talking about. "Ah."

Uncle Sam's been meeting with the with people on the House Committee on the Judiciary, which is odd but not really a cause for concern in itself. Usually a superhero would have to have a little more renown that he has to be called up for the sake of it, but his whole thing is being 'Super United States Man'. The potential problem is that he's also been talking to a lot of people responsible for running the Alliance.

The Justice League's charter was signed off on by the United Nations Security Council, which means that the U.S. Federal Government via the State Department approved it. But while that covers the League, actual U.S. policy towards superpowered vigilantes varies greatly from place to place. Occasionally, some brave soul suggests federal regulation, then someone points to Gotham or Hub City as a good example of why a government bypass isn't always a bad thing.

Or they wish them good luck arresting Superman, or they ask them how good their health plan is.

"That's worrying, but it's hardly a smoking gun."

"How much control did Captain Nazi have?"

"Pass. Some. It's hard to quantify that sort of thing. How much mind control protection do Members of Congress have?"

"Basically? None."

My smile vanishes. "That's a problem."

"A few have wards which should stop magic mind control-."

"Ah… No. If they're using the type I think they are, they won't. Not the style Captain Nazi used. They're designed to weaken or throw off ongoing spells. Captain Nazi's control was undirected; everyone in a place was in effect surrounded by the spell at all times. There isn't anywhere to throw it off to. Even my spell eaters would just keep heating up until they became useless. Telepath blockers?"

"I don't think we've got those."

"We've got g-gnomes. They could easily block any hostile telepath they'd be likely to encounter. I'd bet on a few dozen of them even against someone as strong as M'gann."

"Wouldn't that just mean that the g-gnomes were controlling Congress rather than anyone else?"

"I trust creatures without an instinct to dominate more than I would most humans. But we should probably raise the issue with the Speaker of the House at some point."

"Good luck. But right now they don't have any telepathic defences."

"Marvellous. Remind me why we haven't replaced them all with robots?"

"If we did, they might actually start working."

 

[Mr Zoat]

30th October 2012
09:23 GMT -7

I don't look around as Luna trots up to me and drapes her neck over my right shoulder.

"You are distressed."

I look at the foetal mes in the jars in front of me. I've been subjecting them to every analysis I can think of, and none of the results are good.

"The greatest terrors are those conjured by our own minds, for the material universe is limited to threats which are possible. The imagination has no such restriction."

She snorts quietly. "You are not much given to poetry. Explain your concern to Us. The infants are clearly long dead, if they were even brought fully to term. Did you find the remains of your true mother?"

"No. And please don't even whisper anything like that around Mortalla."

Luna tilts her head so that her left eye enters the field of vision of my right. It's an awkward pose because it involves her horn resting on my forehead, but I appreciate the reassurance that she's trying to give. And the resolve she's showing in the face of this grisly sight. I reach up with my right hand and rest it against the right side of her neck.

"We shall not, though We believe that she would remember having birthed a babe of your complexion."

"Maybe she birthed one of them." I gesture to them with my left hand. "I don't have any sort of hang up about being a clone, but I wouldn't be him. Or… I can't fathom why they exist."

"You are a powerful warrior and capable leader."

"Thank you for the affirmation, dear heart." I turn my head right, kissing her lightly on the nose. "But I haven't forgotten."

"That is not what We meant. It seems to Us that your loathsome father may have decided that growing replicas was a more reliable method of creating commanders than conventional training."

"Plausible, but where are they?" I reach out with my left hand and tap the middle jar. "It's hard to tell when that facility was in operation, but it's been there for decades at least. He's had plenty of time to create more of me…" I shake my head. "Nothing."

"Are your unborn brothers whole?"

"Some are. Others were malformed, and some appear to have been either dissected or vivisected."

"Is there some difference that explains why they were treated in such a manner?"

"None that I can see." I turn my left wrist, rotating the jar in the half-hope that the secret is written on the back. "Can I ask you an extremely personal question?"

"Given the intimacy which we have already shared, We think that you are somewhat tardy in enquiring about anything further."

"It's not the same for Apokoliptians. Emotional intimacy is more significant than physical intimacy, though I…" I nuzzle her nose. "Hope that you're looking forward to your first time as a biped as much as I am."

She nervously stamps her rear left leg, but I can feel her catch herself doing it and make it land quietly. "We imagine that we are a little more apprehensive than you were. The bipedal form is quite unbalanced, and the forelimbs are not designed to resist compression."

"I'll talk you through it. It's about Nightmare Moon."

"We surmised as much. You may ask."

"Do you remember how Nightmare Moon thought? Not.. what she wanted; everyone standing near her knew that the moment she bellowed it at them. How she thought, how she felt, what she liked and disliked… How she made decisions."

"We try not to dwell 'pon it. Shorn of Our hesitancy, her moods were as intense as her expression of them. We are uncertain if that was because she was mentally healthy -though malevolent- and We had… Not been for some considerable time. Or-" She tosses her mane. "-if it was a product of her megalomania. Her memories are… Something of a blur to Us. Doth that help you?"

I shake my head. "Not with this. As far as I can tell, none of Grayven's memories are barred to me. But it helps… Helps me to understand what you went through, and I do appreciate you feeling able to do that."

"You said that he knew aught of what he had uncovered."

"Or he didn't think it was a big deal. There wasn't anything there that could have helped with his fleet-building, so he just didn't bother thinking about it. I don't know."

"Are there any amongst his retinue with whom you could enquire?"

"Not if I wanted to maintain the illusion that I am him. I get the clear impression that he was not much given to collegiality."

"If We may be honest, We were surprised to discover that you were."

"Much as I'd like to be able to claim to be the greatest being there has ever been in any universe, it's simply the case that… Aside from the Source, all beings are limited in their own ways. There are things that I don't know or don't understand, and working with others is only sensible. It is a foolish ruler who makes their advisors too intimidated to offer advice."

"Is that how you see them? Your fellow illuminated?"

"Ah, don't-. Call them that. It has other connotations in English. And… No. I'm… First amongst equals, but they're my guys. People I can go to in order to discuss things with people I can talk to as equals."

"Have you discussed this matter with them?"

"No. This is a New God thing and I need to be able to handle it without them, because it's my thing. I could ask Scott, or… I don't know, cash in that favour Izaya owes me for a consultation, but I can't imagine either of them being involved in this."

"Are there none on Apokolips with whom you could consult?"

I exhale slowly through clenched lips. "Sure. Absolutely no one I'd want to give dead foetal clones of me, and no one I could think of who wouldn't do something nightmarish with them."

"Given their nature, we are curious as to why you would give them the opportunity, rather than simply treating with them as you did with Chrysalis."

"Because Darkseid Is. Can't risk it."

"Do you not also possess the Omega Effect?"

"I suspect so. I know, I usually say that 'a weapon you don't know how to use is a weapon that belongs to your enemy', but it in this case that's literally true. I can't gamble everything on a first strike with an attack he's known about for centuries and I certainly can't assume that I'm immune to his. I can't risk the escalation at this stage."

"Hath any other New God used its power before him?"

"Not as far as I know. Yuga Khan was more powerful generally, but I don't think he used the Omega Force. Uncle Drax was supposed to merge with it, but that didn't work out."

"Why not?"

"Desaad sabotaged his equipment as a favour to Father. He ended up getting badly burned, which was still an improvement on what everyone else who'd tried it got."

"Is there some aspect to the physiology of your family that renders them proof against it?"

"Not as far as I know." I frown slightly. "What, you think Darkseid was trying to create Omega Effect-capable clone soldiers?"

"We do not know enough of your people to know his mind. Is it possible?"

"If he… Isolated what it was about his mindset or physiology that enabled him to channel it… Maybe?"

"And further… Is it possible that none are the original?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

30th October 2012
18:28 GMT

"Mister Chandler!"

Francis Chandler takes a sip from his polystyrene coffee cup and then looks around. "Alright Lantern."

"I don't like to make definitive statements about things like that. I thought I was, then Pluto happened."

The other cab drivers are watching our exchange with an air of cautious curiosity.

"Yeah. Wound Renee right up, messin' with the horoscopes."

"I doubt that a giant alien starfish bodes well for anyone." It's still there, actually. Not like we could move the blasted thing. "How have you been?"

"Had a bloke triple over the inside o' me cab Saturday."

"Triple?"

"Yeah. Pissed himself, shit himself and threw up, all at the same time. Don't s'pose that happens much in your line o' work."

"No." I wince, raise my left hand in the direction of his taxi and.. deal with the remaining residue in a wave of orange light. "Thankfully not."

"Cheers."

"Not a problem. Look, I know I've asked before-."

"You still not found 'im?" Mr. Chandler frowns. "How's he managing that?"

"John has long been cunning, but now he's cunning and powerful. He didn't-. I don't know, leave an emergency chest, or emergency letter, or anything like that with you, did he?"

"He gave me a spare key t' his gaff once, but that place got burned down five years ago." He shakes his head. "John gen'rally turns up when he turns up."

"Right. Well, again, let me know if you hear from him. Or if he's asked you not to talk to me, please pass along my best wishes."

"Will do."

"Thank you." I raise my right hand to my forehead,

sight the familiar bundle of desires and

30th October 2012
13:30 GMT -5

reappear next to Zatanna as the wards around the site glow white for a moment.

She frowns at me as I switch into more casual clothes and then take off my rings and put them into a warded ring box.

"You put out a lot of power when you do that."

I slide the box into my pocket. "When you say 'put out', what exactly do you mean?"

"You.. temporarily make the Plane of Avarice part of the material universe. If it wasn't for your tattoos, any magician on Earth could track where you go. Even with them it's not exactly hard."

"Is it dangerous?"

"Not immediately. I don't know what the long term effects would be." She frowns. "Earth's thaumosphere should be fine, but there'd probably be a short term disruption to magic use in an area… Of a couple of blocks?"

"Not a lot of American magic users, and the Atlanteans are used to adjusting for disruption. Is there anyone it would be a real problem for?"

She folds her arms across her chest.

"Me."

"Ah. Sorry. But you've adjusted now, right?"

"I just don't cast complicated spells while you're doing it."

"Is there anything I can do to make it not do that?" She raises her left eyebrow. "Other than only doing it to warded locations like this one?"

"Probably… I can try and research some sort of gateway charm?"

"It doesn't sound like it's a high priority, but if you could I'd appreciate it." I gesture vaguely to the runes with my right hand. "Will these be alright while we're away?"

She nods. "They'll fade after they've-" One to the right of me disappears. "-had-. There we go. And once we use them again they'll erase themselves. Someone who knew exactly what they were looking for could work out that something happened here, but everything will be too mixed up for them to tell what."

"Good show. Shall we?"

We step out of the vacant shop in Hub City, into a street largely populated with similarly vacant shops. Between the ludicrous crime, corruption, and the Sheeda ship that sat here for a month without anyone noticing because the disappearance rate didn't change significantly, there's a serious Bill before the state legislature calling for the city to be torn down. If it comes to that I think I might just find a dedicated architect and offer them a ring, because I'm interested to see what happens and they can't exactly make the place worse.

Ah, the delightful crunch of needles underfoot.

"How's school?"

"A chore. But it makes Dad happy." She looks around. "What would it take to fix this place?"

"A major industry forming a locus of wealth generation, combined with replacing every part of the local civil service and government."

"Is that something you can do?"

"No. Introducing a new industry to an area would require a lot of time I don't have to spare, and no one has the authority to just order the sort of cauterising that city administration needs."

"How about magic?"

"As a new industry?" She nods as we cross the street to avoid a small cluster of delinquents. I smile at one who appears to be assessing me as a mugging target, and pull my coat aside just enough to flash my gun holster. He gets the idea. "This doesn't look like a place that's got any sort of mystical significance at all. I'd suggest almost anywhere else."

"I bet the subsidies are good."

"I bet they don't outweigh the costs."

We enter a still-functioning café showing not-so-subtle gang colours, order drinks and.. a sandwich, because I'm not risking anything else, and then sit down to wait for-.

Johanna Garrick walks in, ignores the serving counter in favour of coming straight over to us. This doesn't appear to strike the gangers sharing the space as particularly strange, since they don't bother to give us more than a quick once-over.

"Hallo, friends."

"Johanna. Any news?"

"I'm going to rub myself in alcohol once ve leave. Vhat did you vant to talk about?"

"Uncle Sam."

 

[Mr Zoat]

30th October 2012
13:33 GMT -5

"The mad bomber from my Earth, or the grinning fool from this one?"

"The local chap."

"I have been trying to avoid him."

Zatanna frowns. "Why?"

"You know vhat the version from my Earth has been doing?"

"Leading a rebellion against Nazi control?"

Johanna looks like she finds that sort of comment tiresome. "No. The National Socialist Party rules Greater Germany. America is an independent country. Ve don't control them. They make perfectly good fascists on their own."

"So he's fighting American fascists."

"You could say that. But America has been fascist for sixty years. Just about everyone is fascist, or nationalist, or at least neutral. Mostly, he just murders hundreds of civilians vherever he can, American, German, or anyone else."

"What? Why?"

"Because their grandparents failed him? Because the country thinks that he vas on the wrong side of history? Or perhaps he just doesn't like being reminded that he lost? Or perhaps he is in denial about all of the genocides that America carried out before National Socialists got involved? I don't know."

"Much as I enjoy mocking America, that's not the version we'd like to know about."

"I know he's on the contact list, und I saw a photograph of him mit Vincent Edge vhen I visited his office. Do you vant me to ask about him?"

"'Ask', probably not. Just try and find out what he does. I assume that you've told people where you're from?"

"Jah. And many negro men have hit on me after being told." She gives her head a small shake. "It is very strange."

"They're probably just trying to annoy you. Or get you to say something that would make the Alliance kick you out."

"Or they think they can convert you."

"I am villing to not call for them to be deported to Africa, but let's not go crazy."

"Ah, but think how much it would piss off your creators."

"Psh, please. They vere purged years ago. And then the people who purged them vere purged. Unt I think that the people who purged them vere purged also." She takes on a slightly more serious expression. "If I did that, I vould not be going back. Unt if I do not go back, then Overgirl's oh-so-secret plan to change our society fails. So even if I meet a very nice negro, it vill not happen."

"But you accept the idea that there could be nice negroes."

She shrugs. "Sure. If you can accept three nice National Socialists, I can accept nice negroes."

Zatanna kicks me under the table.

"It's more that I hope that I can encourage you to stop being a National Socialist."

"Unt have a nice negro boyfriend?"

She sounds… Not angry, exactly; I'd see that. Irritated? Disgusted? "That's up to you. Or, will be. Hopefully."

"Even if the Reich reforms to a degree, sixty years of racial education vill not just vanish."

"Yes, I can hear that in your voice. I'm not sure what you think I'm suggesting that's so-" She looks away, giving her head a small shake. "-offensive, but I'm pretty sure-."

"No, no, I vas.. overreacting. I'll… Ah. I'll go back.. to vork."

I reach out with my right hand. "Johanna, it's not-."

She pushes back her chair, not meeting my eyes. "I vill go. Goodbye."

She doesn't walk out at super speed, but she does walk quickly and with purpose.

"Um."

Zatanna puts her sandwich down. "What did you expect? Even if she's not super-committed to being a Nazi, she still grew up in a Nazi country."

I nod. "And having run out of other types of subhuman, they probably use 'negro' as their main racist insult. And she just got hit with culture shock combined with cognitive dissonance." I sigh. "This is one of the times when I shouldn't go after her, right?"

"I think that's probably best. You can phone her tonight or something."

I nod, taking a bite of-. Why do they do this? Why do sandwich shops mix mayonnaise with tuna? Shouldn't a cheap café like this go easy on the mayonnaise and not turn the contents of the sandwich into tuna-flavoured mayonnaise gloop? And I can't even get rid of it without using my rings.

"You don't have to eat it."

"That would be rude."

But darn. I swallow.

"Do you have any advice on the situation with Persephone?"

"Tell Hades that if he's even pretending to be a good person he should just let her go. I can't imagine what it would be like to be married for thousands of years to someone who terrified me like he does."

"Yeah… I'm leaving that for.. plan C."

She frowns at me. "That doesn't sound like you."

"Hades is actually doing a good job at his main job, and going by the actions of the other Olympians, Persephone isn't missing out on much by spending time in Erebos. There's no overt offence. Sure, other factors aside I'm inclined to agree with you. Hades hasn't done much wrong but it's clearly never going to be the relationship that he wants it to be. But I'm not all that good at persuading people to do things they don't want to get things they don't want, and Hades doesn't want to completely lose Persephone."

"He's already completely lost her."

"I just wish I understood why she was so scared of him. He's never seemed that intimidating to me."

"You're not most people."

I smile warmly. "Thank you. Neither are you."

She smiles, rolling her eyes. "That's not what I meant. What would you do if you did find him scary?"

"Depends. Being slightly scared of an authority figure isn't necessarily a bad thing. If it was a problem for me… Get stronger until I didn't? Find a new god?"

"Could Persephone do that?"

"Euanthe did that, and she was far weaker than Persephone a couple of years ago."

"Could you help Persephone out the same way?"

"I suppose I-."

My phone rings and I pull it out of my jacket. It's Zagreus.

I guess it's time, then.

 

[Mr Zoat]

30th October 2012
21:45 GMT +3

"…butcher my mind to make me his compliant slave!"

Persephone is clearly incensed, and has naturally decided that I've sided with Hades and regard her as a problem to be beaten into compliance. We're in the palace for this, and I can see the pear trees outside of the window stretching up to provide their goddess with weaponry. Not the grass or flowers though, because her domain is far narrower than that.

I should probably let her get her rant out of her system before interjecting.

But they're not even in the same room.

"Have you no shame?!"

"No."

Darn it. I see Zagreus wince behind her. I'm not completely sure what sort of societal norms he complies with, but there aren't many societies where having a complete mental breakdown in front of a stranger is encouraged. Thing is… With everything that's happened, a raging… Minor goddess just isn't that big a deal any more.

The next stage will be threats, and I shouldn't point out that they're empty.

"You are the lowest form of mortal life. Were there any justice in this world you would suffer in Tartarus as you so richly deserve, your genitals devoured daily by blunt-beaked ravens. What land do you come from that trains its people in such callousness?"

I wait for a-.

"Answer me!"

"I am a citizen of Themyscira."

And that's an end to the threat, because Themyscira's plant life is blessed by Demeter and the locals haven't broken the covenant. She can't do a thing to Britain because… Because it's outside of her bulwark anyway, and though the quantity has crept up after the Sheeda Harrowing and the disappearance of huge areas of South American farmland, it still doesn't do much of its own farming. And she can't do anything to my original homeworld because even if there was a portal back there, a magic life form like her couldn't exist there.

"But if it helps, I've revised my original plan significantly."

"No!"

Don't. Sound. Smug.

"And if this one last attempt at rapprochement doesn't work I will happily argue in favour of a divorce to Hephaestaean."

"You want to carve my brain out of my skull!"

"No, that was the original version of the plan that I came up with in two minutes because people expect me to be able to solve a problem that's been simmering away for thousands of years in a couple of days. After I talked to Hecate, I found out that her coven can remove classes of memory temporarily, and return them to their owner at a later time."

"And you think that is better."

Don't say 'yes, obviously'.

"As I understand it, the reason why your relationship with Hades is in such a state is Zeus. If he'd talked things through with you and your mother, or just told Hades to try wooing you himself, things might be very different. On the other hand, if you couldn't stand him anyway, then it was never going to happen and he needs to get his head around that."

"So I am still your slave."

Don't say, 'no, you're still an immortal goddess-queen with a lifestyle that would be envied around the world', true as it would be.

"So you came to me to ask me to persuade Hephaestaean to give you a divorce. This is what you would have to do in order to get my cooperation. If you don't want my help, feel free to return to your forest." I shrug. "Up to you. Now if you'll please excuse me, I also need to persuade Lord Hades to go through with this."

I turn.

"What do you mean?"

"I haven't talked to him about this yet. The whole point is to either prove to you that the relationship could work, or to prove to him that it can't. If the latter is true, he might well grant you a divorce without bothering Hephaestaean. Which would be better for everyone. But to be fair, we'd be locking his memories too."

I take a breath.

"There's no need to make a quick decision about this. Take as much time to think about it as you want."

I walk away, heading through the receiving room door, down the corridor and out onto a balcony overlooking part of the garden. Lords Hades-. I wince inwardly at how hopeful he looks. Macaria looks less so.

"So I've got a plan."

"Yes?"

"And Queen Persephone hasn't agreed to it yet, but I want you both to have time to feed back with any problems you can see or any reassurances you want."

"Zeus no longer sits upon Olympus. I believe that you have proven that your plans can have merit."

"So you know that Zeus is the reason why your relationship with Persephone fell at the first hurdle, that if you'd taken the time to woo her you both hopefully wouldn't be where you are now."

"Yes."

"I've been talking to Hecate, and we're pretty sure that we can… Temporarily, remove some of your memories. Effectively… Making it as if your relationship to date hadn't happened for as long as the spell is in effect."

"So that I could begin our relationship again properly."

"Maybe. Because she's not keen, and the only way I think she's going to agree to this, is if it doesn't work, you grant her a divorce."

"But it will-. What-. In this wager, what qualifies as a success?"

"You'd be trying to woo her original self. If she rejects you, even without all of the fear she felt when you… Collected, her. Then that's a failure."

"And she would leave."

"And you would agree to a divorce, and trouble her no more."

"And what is a success?"

"If you build up a sufficiently positive relationship that it causes her to view your current relationship in a new light when your memories are restored."

"Is there any risk?"

"You might have to divorce your wife, whom you love, and avoid her evermore."

"Is there any risk from the magic?"

"Not so far as we can determine."

"Then I will do it. The opportunity to finally make things right with Persephone is more than I can pass up."

I smile. "Glad to hear it. I'll go and see if she's decided yet."

 

[Mr Zoat]

25th October 2282
07:10 MTZ

I take a careful look at the grizzled prisoner opposite me as he glowers through the bullet-resistant glass. Through the grill in the bottom I can hear him quietly wheezing, a result of the injuries he sustained when the left side of his power armour's torso was hit by an anti-tank rifle, bending it inwards to crush his ribs. The rest of the armour was melted near-solid; they had to get him out with drills and chisels, and the NCR army only bothered doing that because they thought that he might have actionable intelligence.

And that's not his only injury. I can see a dozen small scars and burns earned through a life in the wastelands. Three years in the NCR's care with minimal medical aid and surrounded by violent criminals hasn't exactly been easy.

I mean, my goodness. Forty years since Navarro. And he wasn't exactly young when it happened.

"How the heck are you still alive?"

The skin around his eyes tightens as he moves his glare from 'hostile' to 'openly contemptuous'.

"I AM ALIVE BECAUSE I DO NOT HAVE WEAK MUTANT BLOOD IN MY VEINS! I HAVE PURE AMERICAN VINEGAR!"

He looks like he wants to keep shouting, but there's a tremor in his chest and he has to brace himself to avoid showing weakness.

Sergeant Arch Dornan is the longest serving surviving member of Enclave personnel still in NCR custody. He was captured after the NCR/Vault City alliance stormed the Sierra Army Depot and he was moved here once they realised who he was. This is the man who led the evacuation of Navarro once the command post was destroyed by Brotherhood Paladins, and who organised the remaining free Enclave units in California into a cohesive force.

And then he sided with Doctor Anderson in their election and it was all downhill from there. New Reno may never recover.

"Well, when you're immune to disease and radiation and can punch out a brahmin, it's time to stop pretending you're not a mutant. FEV's powerful stuff."

"THAT IS US GOVERNMENT PROPERTY, MUTIE!"

"The US government never finished it. I would be happy to share my expertise, were the US government a going concern."

"THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA IS NOT DEAD SO LONG AS ONE LOYAL SOLDIER REMAINS! AND I AM NOT YET DEAD!"

"Sergeant, how would you like to get out of prison while still alive?"

…

He continues glowering at me for a few moments.

"I'm listening."

"The NCR is rather pleased with me at the moment. I've been helping them make friends, dealing with a few potential conflicts and we recently killed a giant super mutant god. Caesar's next on the chopping block and then that's basically it. The territory of the former United States will be home to peaceable successor states, several of which conform to the borders of pre-War states. Texas is back, and Oklahoma, and Colorado, and the Republic of the Rio Grande."

"Get to the point, mutie."

"The Enclave claimed to be the legitimate government of the United States, using emergency continuity laws to pass authority from one leader to another. But the people of the wasteland don't recognise their authority, not only because the Enclave tried to kill them all with FEV, but because they didn't vote for them. America is supposed to be a democracy, and the constitution makes it clear that you do need to have federal elections every few years. You tried fighting the entire wasteland twice, and it didn't work."

I lean forwards slightly.

"Have you considered more covert means?"

"What the hell do you mean by that?"

"I believe that the best way to ensure ongoing peace in North America is to re-establish the United States. For a while I've been picking up Enclave survivors and shipping them off to Iowa. Governor Autumn really just controls a single town and some farmland at the moment, but there are a lot of hard-working and patriotic Americans there who'd be glad to see you, and the other Enclave personnel in NCR custody."

"Iowa."

"Not sure what Iowa did to piss the Chinese off, but they nuked it pretty hard during the War. Now, the radiation forms a barrier around the area their Garden of Eden Creation Kit purified. Point is, if I talk the reformed states into reforming the United States, that will be one Governor, two Senators and however many congressional representatives who were members of the Enclave."

"YOU EXPECT ME TO SIGN UP TO A GOVERNMENT OF THE MUTANTS BY THE MUTANTS FOR THE MUTANTS?! I WOULD RATHER ROT IN HELL!"

"A person who is born to either naturalised or natural-born American citizens is an American citizen. That means that virtually everyone you dismiss as 'mutants' is in fact an American citizen. They may be mutants as well, but they are legally American citizens. The Constitution puts some fairly strong restrictions on the way a legitimate government can treat its citizens, and the fact that the Enclave refuses to recognise that is another rather serious strike against it. Not… A serious strike as in 'something that makes people dislike it', I mean a serious strike against its claim to be the legitimate government when it fails to respect the very laws which give it power."

I shrug.

"I mean, if the government doesn't follow the law, why should anyone else?"

"MUTANTS ARE NOT CITIZENS OF MY COUNTRY!"

"The Constitution makes no provision for depriving a person of their citizenship on the grounds of genetic alteration. You don't have to like us, but you can't deprive us of our rights. But that's rather beside the point. The point is; do you want to see any kind of America restored and then work to make it more like what you think it should be, or do you want to die here?"

I could give his mind a little nudge, but… That sort of thing tends not to stick. If I drop him on Autumn and Granite like that he'd probably end up as the nucleus of a hard-core Purist movement that will create even more trouble for me later on. And cost me virtually all of my credit with the NCR. No, this does need to be something he decides for himself, and I can feel his thoughts churning.

As far as he's concerned, Iowa, Nevada, California, it makes no difference. He'll gladly fight and die for the Enclave, completely convinced of the legitimacy of his cause. Some Enclave soldiers I've met weren't convinced that releasing the FEV Plague was the right thing to do at the time, and the ones like Granite who spent time since the Fall of Navarro living around wastelanders are now firmly convinced that it was wrong. Others like Dornan have drunk all of the Kool-Aid.

One nation, under the Enclave, with mindless obedience for all.

But Dornan needs someone else to set the agenda. His insistence that he's not an officer is something he feels deeply. He isn't comfortable making policy decisions himself. And he knows Granite and knew Autumn Senior. They are part of the group of people he's used to taking orders from.

"What else?"

"You and all Enclave personnel remaining in NCR custody would be loaded into trucks and put on the road with a small escort of my people. Any who don't take this deal will be 'killed attempting to escape', which is one of the reasons why I hope you'll convince as many of your fellows as you can to accept it. Governor Autumn already knows that some people will be coming, and they've made the arrangements to receive you. I believe that you will technically become a member of the Iowa National Guard, though in practice your responsibilities will remain the same. Or you… Could retire. You've served with distinction for a very long time-."

"I've failed my country twice, mutie. Do you have any idea what that's like?"

"Restoring Britain has somewhat fallen down my schedule, but I'll get there eventually."

"I can't make this decision myself. But if I'm alive, I can always come back and kill you later."

I smile broadly. "That's the spirit. You'll tell the others?"

He nods, grudgingly. "Get the guards out of the way for half an hour. We'll be having a free and frank exchange of views."

I nod. "Good to hear it. I'll see you with the trucks tomorrow."

 

[Mr Zoat]

2nd November 2012
04:25 GMT +3

"…obviously not going to work, but at least it will be over."

Zagreus and I walk towards Themyscira City and away from the forest. Since Demeter is obviously not a neutral chaperone, they ended up agreeing on Gaea. Which also put her in the perfect position to witness Hades swear an oath to her that he would release Persephone from all obligations if it didn't work.

Persephone seemed marginally happier after that.

"No faith in your father's attractiveness?"

"Mother clearly saw him as a threat for a reason. It was unfair, but affairs of the heart aren't obliged to be fair. They have nothing in common and no political reason to be together."

"How about you?"

He glances at me, frowning. "Me? I'm not five years old. I can cope perfectly well with my parents separating."

"No, I mean, from the sounds of it you have a modern view of marriage."

"I am modern. For virtually all purposes I'm a modern… A human with a few magical abilities."

"An unageing human with a few magical abilities. I've seen agelessness impair people's ability to learn new things."

"Fortunate for me. And whether I prefer the modern version of marriage depends on what you mean. Marriage should be a publically stated commitment, not something you abandon when it becomes inconvenient or when the initial.. shine comes off the relationship. A marriage entered into by two people because they share life-goals can be a perfectly good marriage."

"But..?"

"There's no 'but' to it. Father let his emotions cloud his reason. He should have known that just driving up in his chariot and picking Mother up wasn't the right thing to do. It was Zeus, for Gaea's sake! There's a gap between 'sticking to your promises' and 'living a total fantasy'! If anything, I should-."

He stops, staring at me.

"No."

"What?"

"No." he shakes his head. "You aren't that cunning."

"If you could give me a little more..?"

"For a moment, I remembered your claim that Eris didn't cause the Trojan War, she just brought the pettiness of everyone else to the surface. And it occurred to me that I could interpret what you've done here in a similar light."

"Oh-" I shake my head. "-no. I don't think like that."

"I realised. But when Father fails, you'll have been able to do what even Demeter couldn't do: ending their façade of a marriage."

"No problem with Macaria being made regent?"

"No. Out of the three of us, she's the one with a connection to the dead. And she wants to be part of this new pantheon that Hephaestaean is drawing together."

"Have you met your new God of War?"

"No, I've been too busy bracing myself for whatever explosion you would create. Did Kratos break a clinch long enough to accept?"

"No, you got Týr."

"Your suggestion?"

"I did suggest it as a half-joke to Diana a couple of years ago, but he volunteered without any direct contact with me."

"Convenient."

"Are you familiar with virtue ethics?"

"Of course I'm familiar with virtue ethics. I come from the society that invented the concept."

"Virtue guards against bad luck. Not completely, but to a significant degree. If you put flour in a sieve and shake, fine grains rain through while larger parts are broken up or trapped. Likewise, any system that can't survive a little chaos probably wasn't that good anyway."

"You think chaos is a virtue, guarding against bad systems?"

"The philosophers John Stuart Mill and Harriet Taylor argued against censorship on the grounds that even if an opinion was utterly vile, it was still worth having the opinion aired so that people could remind themselves that it was vile and practise the counter-arguments with a real example. My point is that it's always worth having someone test things, even if they're wrong. Because… If a man prodding a fence with his foot can knock it over then it probably wasn't going to withstand an actual storm. And if this many fences are falling over, they're probably overdue for a kicking."

"Have fun with that. We've finally got enough judges trained up that I can afford to go back to Africa, so it's not going to be my problem."

"You sure?"

"You tell me."

I take a look at his desire network and… Yes, he's pretty much done with this whole situation. That's a shame, but I understand where he's coming from. His role in the whole thing was supporting Hades and if his sister would rather do it…

"I see that you are. Thank you for helping out for as long as you have."

I hold out my right hand. He bows his head slightly with a smile as he takes it.

"I'll be happy to go back to hippos. You don't have anything… Else planned for our pantheon, do you?"

"Planned?"

He steps back into the woods, slowly fading from view.

"Nice safe hippos and lions…"

I shake my head, sight Menalippe and transition over to her.

"So."

She looks me over cautiously. "What news?"

"Hephaestaean has his pantheon more or less together, final negotiations pending. Macaria is temporarily taking over Erebos while her parents use the waters of the Lethe to either save or finally destroy their marriage. And I still don't know where John Constantine is."

She frowns. "Who?"

"He's a magician… You've never met, but he disappeared and I've been looking for him..?"

She nods. "And you are not an easy man to hide from. Please explain what you mean by 'use the waters of the Lethe'."

"Temporarily regress to the point where they first met and see if they can form a relationship without Zeus and Demeter sticking their oars in. Other than Hades maybe ending up single, it shouldn't affect anyone here."

"Thank the gods for small mercies."

I don't draw attention to her unfortunate phrasing.

"And I'll try to avoid upending Themysciran religious practice again for at least a decade. Thank you for your forbearance."

Now. Constantine.

 

[Mr Zoat]

Dear John

5th November 2012
23:12 GMT

"Do you have a-"

"FUCK!"

The surprised… I want to say 'cultist', but this might actually be an unusual but accepted part of Hinduism for all I know, so… 'Ritualist', loses hold of his goat, which writhes in his grasp, smacking him with its horns before freeing itself and making a break for it.

"-license to butcher that goat?"

The ritualist takes a moment to take stock of the situation, then straightens himself up and brushes some of the goat hair off his robes.

"I do, actually. So-."

"Doesn't look stunned to me." I look around the… Rented business unit? Reminds me a little of the place John set up that withering spell to try and weaken Nabu. "And this doesn't look like a licensed premises."

"I've got a religious exemption."

"No you don't. If nothing else, because those stopped existing the moment Doctor Balewa finished explaining to the Select Committee how ritual sacrifice could be used to power certain types of spell." I drop to the floor. "Now, de facto, I'm not sure how well that law has actually been enforced, but in this instance I would respectfully suggest that now is the time to fold."

"Right, fine." He pushes back his hood, revealing a face covered in ritual face paint. "What do you want?"

"I'm trying to find John Constantine. Unfortunately, I've been getting nowhere."

He frowns, paint flaking slightly as his brow furrows. "Thought you and him were pretty close."

"You know how that goes with John. I take it you haven't seen him?"

"Not since just after that thing with that Lich."

"'After'?"

"Yeah… He.. just sort of turned up in my flat. Like he does, you know?" I nod. "Asked me about a couple of rituals… Don't know why he bothered if he can just talk to the Atlanteans about it."

"Most likely because the Atlanteans study magic scientifically, building their understanding in a gradual, controlled way. There are any number of rituals and evocations they don't know about and probably wouldn't try."

"Uh." He nods, actually looking a little pleased.

"What?"

"Well, with those Dolmen Gates and.. things, people like me… People have been trying to set up… Professional standards and that. But no one gets that we can't do that stuff." He shrugs a little self-consciously. "Just nice to hear there's stuff we can do that they can't, too."

"Not to… Harsh your mellow, but… They're magical scientists. They'll get it eventually, and then they'll be better at it because they'll understand how it all works. Particularly if they can study other people doing it so they've got somewhere to start."

"And they pay for that?"

"Um. Probably? I'm not sure if they've got a system for hiring locals, and… Atlantis doesn't exactly have large reserves of foreign currency, but I can introduce you if you want?"

He nods. "Sounds good."

"But going back to John..?"

"Oh yeah, he wanted to know this spell… Okay, you know how the soul goes through multiple cycles of life, death and rebirth?"

"I'm Lord Hades's marriage counsellor."

He frowns. "Who?"

"Ancient Greek God of the Dead."

"Oh. Do Greeks have samsara?"

"No, reincarnation is voluntary and random, and it's more… Because you're bored of the underworld than any sort of journey of spiritual discovery. But I'm familiar with the idea."

"Right, well, the soul retains… Development between incarnations, but it doesn't keep most of the memories. There's some leakage, but mostly… The new incarnation is a new person. That's the whole point; you can't learn if you're constantly doing the same things."

"Alright."

"But it's hackable."

"Reincarnation is hackable?"

"You can't change-. You can't reliably change where you reincarnate." He shifts awkwardly. "I mean, I've read scrolls which say you can, but the system picks up on it and makes your next life miserable, and there's no point because you don't remember it anyway."

"Karma's a bitch."

"No, it sounds fair to me." He shrugs. "But it's not just that. Because the soul does retain development, the memories of all your past lives have to be encoded in it, right?"

"Not all of them, but… Yes? That's where past life memories come from."

"But it encodes more than people remember. There's rituals you can use to get more access. Even talk to your own past incarnations, if you want."

"And that's what John asked about?"

"Yeah." He shrugs. "That was the main thing. We were talking for a while, and I don't remember… It was mostly about that."

John's past incarnations? I don't remember anything about that in the comics. Sure, there were other Constantines, and other synchronicity wave travellers… This is more than I've gotten from anyone else.

"Do you remember anything else about his visit?"

"He had a Tesco bag that glowed the whole time."

"What colour?"

"White, with blue and red-."

"The glow, not the bag."

"Gold."

I nod. "Did he say where he was going?"

"No. Didn't even say goodbye, I just turned around and he wasn't there anymore."

"Mind if some colleagues of mine take a look at your apartment? We're really quite eager to make sure that John's alright."

"Sure." He shrugs. "Sure, no problem. Ah, about those Atlanteans?"

"Do you have time now?"

He glances in the direction the goat fled in. It's gone.

"Might as well."

 

[Mr Zoat]

2nd November 2282
15:26 CDT

"Hey."

I continue focusing on-.

"Hey! Chief mutie!"

I open my eyes and smile at the junior Enclave officer sitting opposite me.

"Word to the wise: not a good-."

He frowns. "The hell's up with your accent? Where the fuck are you supposed to come from?"

"Eastbourne. It's a town on the south coast of England."

"That really how they talk on the East Coast?"

"No, not New England. The country New England was named after." Nothing. "It's on a small island north of France?"

He blinks uncomprehendingly.

"The fuck's France?"

Ah. I had wondered if Douglas was just a little slow, but it's starting to look like the Enclave had a very… 'Specialised' education system. Since the Resource Wars couldn't really be described as any sort of moral struggle they're covered in roughly the detail the Boer Wars got in GCSE History, while the struggle against China is covered-.

I was going to say 'like World War Two', but actually they aren't given the historical context to understand Chinese culture. It's just covered a lot.

We could correct that. There are a few Chinese ghouls who survive into the present day in northern Denver, the result of their old home country's one attempt to actually land troops in America. A lot of them are reasonably mentally coherent, but… Talking to Chinese Communist Double-Mutants is probably a hard sell at the moment.

Instead, I reach into my pack and.. pull out.. a map of trans-Atlantic shipping routes. Most of the books which survived the exchange of nuclear weapons at the end of the war have mouldered in the intervening period, and while maps have been preserved, those were mostly maps of North America. This was a bit of a find; preserved in a sealed case in the office of an East Coast shipping company.

I open it up so that the East Coast of America and Western Europe are both visible.

"See? New York here, and-"

"Uh-huh."

"-Europe is over here, this bit's France and-."

"Kinda small for a country, ain't it?"

"The original thirteen colonies which made up the United States didn't cover all that big an area. It just grew a lot due to-"

"Destiny."

"-a lack of industrialised competition from local tribal groups, allowing unfettered westward expansion. England is this bit; the southern part of Great Britain."

"An' that's where you're from?"

"Originally. Just here." The scale's too small to show Eastbourne, but Brighton's marked on there. "And my point is that it's not-."

"How'd you get here, then?"

"As far as I've been able to tell? Alien abduction."

He frowns. "Fuck you."

"Polite to constantly interrupt people. What's your name?"

He hesitates, and a few of the other Enclave soldiers in the truck who'd been eavesdropping start smirking. Then he takes a moment to glare them into awkwardly looking away.

"Lieutenant Orwich."

"Pleased to meet you. My name is Krono."

"You, ah…" One of the soldiers shifts awkwardly in his seat, not quite able to contain his amusement. "You not going to tell him your first name, L-T?"

"Did I hear somefuck say 'please make my whole platoon do a hundred push-ups'?"

"Ah." I frown. "Not that I want to undermine your discipline here, but your full name, rank, and serial number are the three things you're obliged to tell me according to U.S. Military Code of Conduct."

He looks like he's just had to suck a whole lemon. "It's… Mary."

I blink. "Your… Parents were Johnny Cash fans?"

"Yeah."

I lean forward, pat him reassuringly on the left thigh with my right hand and then lean back.

"Any plans for when you get to Iowa?"

He shrugs. "I'm a soldier, but I'm a power armour man an' I doubt we'll have anything except a couple a' suits of reconditioned T Forty Five. Fuckin' Iowa, man."

The Enclave developed their signature Advanced Power Armour suits after the war, but with the Poseidon Oil Rig destroyed in a nuclear blast and all of their facilities overrun the technology is nearly lost. Anderson had just restarted APA Mark II production back up when the NCR attacked New Reno, but they were only able to field a couple of squads with it. Most of the power armour they used was old suits they were forced to preserve using maintenance instructions due to the lack of skilled personnel and repair facilities.

"It's a fairly safe area, and Governor Autumn really needs farmers and engineers more than infantry."

The Brotherhood might have acquired the designs from Navarro before it got destroyed during their fight with the NCR, but if so then they're not sharing. Skynet might know, but it's not particularly cooperative and it's quite possible that Anderson wiped that portion of its memory banks. The NCR is having people study captured suits, but… Their researchers are variable in quality. Their efforts at power armour so far are limited to stripping out the servos and strapping unpowered articulated plates to their soldiers so I'm not hopeful. My people could probably help, but heavy armour doesn't fit our tactics.

"He can cashier me if he wants." He thinks for a moment. "There any mutants in Iowa?"

"Do you mean 'regular people who aren't part of the Enclave', 'regular people who didn't come from a Vault', or 'ghouls and super mutants'?"

"Yeah, those."

"Those were three-." Hm. This isn't working. Try something a little different, with just a little telekinesis to make sure that I get the sound right. "THOSE WERE THREE-"

Every member of Enclave personnel in the truck clenches.

"-SEPARATE OPTIONS, MOR-ON! YOU WILL ANSWER MY QUESTION AND YOU WILL ANSWER IT NOW!"

"'Regular people who aren't part of the Enclave', Sarge-. God-. Damn, you did his voice well!"

A nervous laugh comes from several of the braver soldiers, the rest settling for unclenching.

"Thank you, it's a part of my mutation. To answer your question, we haven't located any wastelander survivors. The area is too radioactive for long term human habitation away from the area purified by the G.E.C.K. There are some ghouls in the old cities, but they appear to all be of the feral variety and they're mostly staying where they are. None of the known sources of FEV are anywhere near Iowa, but it's not impossible that a couple of super mutants have wandered this way. There are a few mutant animals around, but the scariest things are leg worms and they've already worked out how to keep them away."

"The fuck's a leg worm?"

"It's a type of tunnelling lamprey that waits just under the ground until someone stands on it, then lunges up and bites off their leg."

His eyes boggle.

"Fuck the fuck?"

"But they can't dig fast, and a few ultrasonic emitters with keep them away. Or you could just wear-."

WHOOOOSH!

 

[Mr Zoat]

2nd November 2282
15:31 CDT

A sudden increase in temperature and the slight crackle as the truck's inertia suppression field activates. A quick psychokinetic yank and the soldier closest to it ends up in the middle-

"Gah!"

-of the truck as my psychokinetic barrier strains to keep the heat isolated. A picture of my environment forming in my mind, I reach outward with my psychokinetic abilities just as whatever just got fired at us causes the truck's armour to redden.

The truck brakes hard, soldiers grabbing onto their seating in an attempt to stay upright. Lieutenant Orwich looks at me, then at the sealed rear of the truck. I nod, pressing the switch that releases the doors and causing natural sunlight to leak into our compartment.

Lieutenant Orwich points. "Everybody out!"

Enclave soldiers are trained and motivated to a degree that only the most highly skilled NCR soldiers can match. There's no pushing, no shoving and definitely no panicking. Instead they get out as the truck comes to a halt and the ball turret mounted light machinegun on the front opens fire at something we can't see.

The lieutenant and I are the last ones out, the side of the truck glowing brighter as… Some sort of radiation weapon hits it again. We're on a… Partially restored section of the Interstate 90. Survivors from Heaven's Gate who fled from the Crimson Acolytes cleared it of pre-war wrecks in order to extract their steel and radiologicals, and while the road itself is mostly in okay condition there's no immediate cover other than our trucks. The soldiers are hitting the tarmac-flecked concrete while they try and spot where the attack is coming from.

Lieutenant Orwich glances up at me. "We get our guns back now?"

The other trucks are pulling to a halt, guns pointing towards where our truck is shooting. I quickly glance at my Geiger watch, and… We're not truly into the radiation belt just yet, but we're close enough that everyone's going to be on a RadAway drip after this. I'm at a half-crouch; my force field, armour and psychic abilities mean I'm a lot safer than the disarmed Enclave soldiers and I need information.

Who the hell uses pure radiation weapons around here? No one I can think of.

Three other trucks open fire, while another drives up alongside ours to cover the hole in its armour. I gesture down the convoy. "Second truck from the rear. Stay in cover unless they get closer."

Lieutenant Orwich nods, rising to a sprinter's crouch. "Evans, Lewis, get moving." Two of the soldiers scramble up, dashing towards the rear of the convoy using the cover the trucks provide. "Everyone else, stay down and wait your turn. You know who this is?"

I reach my mind out towards the pilot who's supposed to be providing air cover.

**Jeri, what's going on?**

**[Picture of a ruined town, confusing heat and radiological flares which mean nothing to me twinkling sporadically.]**

**Meaning?**

"Davis, O'Shaughnessy, go!"

**Can't see shit, Krono. You know how alla this radiation messes up the sensors.**

**Can you at least put some fire downrange?**

**I can shoot up that ruined town, but there could be other people in there.**

WHOOOOSH!

Shields on the truck providing cover to us flare as the frontal armour heats up-. I throw up a shield, feeling the pressure of… Gamma radiation, it's a gaser, and a big one. The side door of the truck is flung open as the passenger dives-

BANGBANGBANGBANG!

-out an instant before the ammunition starts cooking off, bullets ripping into the lightly armoured-

"Aghuargh."

-interior. I wince as the driver collapses into a bleeding lump, then catch sight of two Ghost operatives shimmering into invisibility as they activate their stealth suits and run in the direction of our attackers.

**Link up with infantry and provide fire support at their direction.**

"Scott, Vaughn!"

**Sure thing chief.**

"Stuart!" Lieutenant Orwich glances back at me. "Mutie Chief! Head in the game!"

"Just coordinating our efforts, lieutenant." **Does anyone have a visual?**

**[A window in the second floor of an old office building. Something inside it moves.]**

I take a moment to **[get the bird's eye view of that location]** from Jeri and calculate the angle… Good enough.

**Jeri, hit it.**

Lieutenant Orwich crawls forward to check on the gunner. A little stunned, but basically alright. She scrambles back into the front compartment of the truck, psychic energy gathering to try and keep the driver alive while she readies a stim-pack plunger.

In the distance I see the invisible saucer's disintegrator cannon open fire, pale blue streaks of light raining down-

-**[on the building, bricks and metal coming apart but something glowing yellow tanking the hits.]**

I try reaching out in that direction with my mind, but radiation messes up remote viewing and… I can't feel a mind over there. Which means that it's probably a turret, or.. another robot. Yellow force fields are pretty darn tough, so it's-.

Plumes of dust erupt from the ground between us and the town, yellow glows appearing from each of the newly created holes and then moving towards us at speed.

**[The Ghosts take cover, showing an image of large… Robots, or some type of novel power armour. They have a force field tower shield on their left arm and what looks like a multi-barrelled energy weapon with an axe bayonet mounted directly on their right.]**

**Let them pass you and fire on them from behind. Jeri, hit them.**

The robots are approaching at a loping run, far faster and more organic looking than anything RobCo ever managed. They remind me a little of the C-series, but lighter and with longer legs. They'll be here-

"The fuck?"

-in fifteen seconds, more or less.

**Break out the pulse weapons and anti-armour.** "Lieutenant, get yourself a gun. We'll need to flank them to avoid the shield."

I draw my plasma pistol, and take a moment to wish that someone with mech-empathy was here. I can sort of interface with electronic systems psychically, but I'm not good enough at it to get through to robots that have already locked on.

I see the robot's gun arms come up as they enter effective range and open fire, targetting the gaps between the trucks with high accuracy. Rate of fire's not all that high, but those shots would melt through a normal person if they-.

The saucer opens fire with its disintegrator cannon, the robot it targetted diving to the side to evade the shot with incredible agility. All of the others then raise their shields over their heads, and the second robot targetted takes a short volley without any-

CRACK!

-difficulty, but the position leaves it open to a gauss rifle shot from our column which hits it square in the chest. The robot is knocked off its feet, but turns it into a roll and leaps back into action with only a small amount of visible damage.

CRACK!

Shields back down, the gauss shot hitting and being turned aside by the yellow energy barrier. Disintegrator bolts-.

Gamma guns go up and open fire. I can't see the shots-.

The air shimmers, the saucer becoming visible as it twists in the air and tries to climb!

**I'm hit!**

 

[Mr Zoat]

2nd November 2282
15:33 CDT

"That a vertibird?"

"Flying saucer." **Jeri, report!**

**Ah, shit, drive system [a complicated technical image, now smouldering and sparking] so I'm going to have to set down or bug out.**

I nod distractedly. The anti-gravity and drive systems are separate, but hanging motionless in the sky isn't a good idea around anti-aircraft weapons that can detect invisible targets.

**Cease fire, go directly upwards. If they've got pre-War AA programming-.**

**Already doing it.**

I get a.. slight impression of her vector, as well as the mild frustration that I thought she'd need to be told to do that. Our saucers can use their inertial dampeners to change direction on a dime, and that's fooled sentry guns programmed to shoot down Chinese jets and rockets before. These robots… They keep running towards us while firing along the saucer's predicted vector, spread out their fire when they fail to hit it, and then-

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

-they lower their guns and go back to suppressing our convoy. Their guns don't appear to be able to easily penetrate the armour of our trucks but I-

"AAgh!"

-start hearing cries and yelps as our people are hit by energy beams they can't see. The Enclave personnel aren't wearing armour due to technically being prisoners until we hand them over to Governor Autumn and my people are only wearing light armour. I think the main plates could take the sort of hits the robots' weapons are doing but they don't cover the whole of the body.

"The fuck are those things?"

At this range, machinegun fire from the trucks is hitting their shields in a constant barrage. It's not getting through or visibly weakening them, but the kinetic force appears to be forcing the robots to slow or risk losing their footing. One actually does, right leg sliding away as some scree shifts and causing the robot to roll-

CRACK! CRACK! FOSHUUM!

-on its back as it tries to recover, only to take two gauss shots to the back, followed a moment later by an anti-armour rocket. It slides back along the ground, carapace blackened and breached.

Without slowing, two of the others turn their guns on it and fire, frying its torso and shield generator.

"Lieutenant, you should probably join your men."

"Naw. The Sergeant can organise 'em as well as I can. I need to coordinate with you, 'cause I get on with muties so well."

Surviving records show that he was a dedicated Anderson-supporter while Dornan was on the fence until the election.

"Fine." I draw my plasma pistol and offer it to him as the robots charge up the shallow slope to the road. "Take this and try to not die."

He takes it and checks the power cell. "I'll repossess this government property."

**Psychics, hold-** Lieutenant Orwich starts as he hears my voice in his head for the first time. **-and tank, infantry, flank and shoot. Trucks, reverse off the road away from them. Signal readiness.**

**[A waves of affirmations from my people, and a confused acknowledgement from the Enclave soldiers.]**

**Ghosts.**

Pulse grenades appear from nowhere, sailing towards the oncoming robots and detonating with a surge of electromagnetic radiation. A few robots stumble, but only those whose casings had been damaged with gauss fire. Good insulation, then.

Ten metres away, the trucks aiming downwards to have their bullets bounce off the yellow shields.

**Trucks reverse, psychics forwards.**

There's a roar of engines as the trucks hit reverse and then I'm focusing on the three robots closest to me. Lightning gathers around my hands as I rip electrons from any available atom and contain it for a moment before directing it to arc at the closest! It raises its shield but that's not conductive and the lightning leaps around and earths itself-

The robot I'm targetting and one of its fellows shoots me, psychokinetic barrier and inertial nullifier taking the hit and… Ow, but I'll live.

-in the robot's chassis. Part of its gun arm explodes immediately, making the robot stagger sideways and block its neighbour. Shield's still up and that axe looks a bit glowy-.

I wince as I lift the damaged robot off its feet and force it back, trying to-. The robot behind it leaps over its flying comrade, machinegun bullets from two of the retreating trucks bypassing its shield and pinging across its chassis. Lieutenant Orwich takes a shot with my pistol, narrowing missing the shield emitter housing and hitting nothing but air.

The robot repositions its shield to block the machinegun shots, plants its feet and lunges! Compressed pneumatic rams send it flying at me, and I-! Drop and roll while pushing at it with a psychokinetic thrust!

The axe comes down next to me, concrete clicking and cracking as heats up around where the axe head has bitten in.

Roll and pull myself up, robot swinging lean and shove, robot stumbling past me lightning! The robot spasms, swinging its axe clumsily at me as it shudders-.

Lieutenant Orwich darts in, stepping around its gaser and shooting it in the upper torso at point blank range! The plasma eats through the armour and penetrates into the internal mechanisms, the robot collapsing-.

Dodge!

The robot with the destroyed gaser swings its axe, narrowly missing me and forcing me to stumble into the line of fire of one of the truck machineguns. I wince as some of the force gets through my protections, knocked forward in time to need to-

Dodge!

-another axe swing, this robot crouching behind its shield as it takes quick but cautious swings at me. Ah, back up back up, lightn-.

OOF! Bah! It shoulder charged me! I'm on my back and-. It's swinging at Lieutenant Orwich and lightning takes a few sec-.

A flash to blue-white energy and the robot stumbles-

CRACK! CRACK!

-as one of the Ghosts hits it with a pulse grenade and the other shoots it. I haul myself upright and blast it with lightning, making it spasm and collapse as Lieutenant Orwich steps up to give it the coup de grâce with my pistol.

I look down the line-. The three intact robots turn and bound away, shields covering their backs and blocking shots from the newly armed Enclave soldiers. Other robots are on the ground, broken and battered and surrounded by soldiers who aren't taking chances. I see a.. dozen dead and another dozen injured-.

"Ah, fuck."

And Lieutenant Orwich has seen it too. One of my psykers is clearly dead and two of my soldiers are injured, not counting the driver shredded by the cooked off ammunition. The rest are Enclave soldiers, caught in the open or punished for their impetuousness.

**Sergeant, guard both sides of the road.**

Dornan glares at me suspiciously for a moment before gesturing to the soldiers around him, a gauss gun firmly in his grip. I jog to the closest still-living casualty, right arm baked black by the gamma beams and breath irregular. I draw a stim-pack from my-. I draw an intact stim-pack from my robes and stab it into the unharmed flesh near his shoulder as I gather psychic energy to meld the flesh back into functionality.

Lieutenant Orwich has followed me, glaring at the back of my head.

"Mutie chief… The fuck was that?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

6th November 2012
21:22 GMT

"Mm." Giovanni Zatara looks around the flat with an air of disapproval. Minor wards of dubious providence hang from the walls, and honestly the place could do with a vacuum. "Yes, this does seem like somewhere an associate of John's would live. Laever!"

His hands and eyes glow faintly… Gold.

"Sir, I can't help but notice that your magic has changed colour."

"I could feel what Nabu was doing. It has changed my approach a little."

"Do I need to be concerned?"

He flicks his right hand, dismissing the glow. "How do you mean 'concerned'? The Lords of Order are ancient magical beings, but they are not all that is orderly."

"I'm perfectly happy to fight any Lords of Order who turn up, but I-."

"Please avoid doing so."

"But I do realise that seriously disrupting Earth's magic systems can have a plethora of knock-on effects and you'd probably prefer it if I didn't feed them all to the Ophidian."

He frowns slightly. "Hm."

"Found something?"

"I was trying to work out what would happen if you fed all Lords of Order to the Ophidian."

I smile-.

"That was not a suggestion."

"No. Of course not. Going out and killing an entire species because one of them wronged a friend of mine would be a massive overreaction. And, also murder." … "But if I did..?"

"Every mortal magician who draws upon Order would be free to pursue order as it exists in their eyes, without any kind of moderation or oversight. I think that the Lords of Chaos would find the result entertaining."

"Would they attack the material universe?"

"The Lords of Chaos are not that unified or predictable."

"Because she could eat them as well." I shrug. "In theory."

"If I remember correctly, the Ophidian was bound to the Orange Light Fountain, unable to leave or otherwise act on the material universe."

"That's true."

"You should not assume that either the Lords of Order or the Lords of Chaos could not do something similar. And they would most likely imprison you as well."

I smirk. "Is it bad that I take that as a compliment?"

"It is certainly strange."

"It would mean that they don't think they can kill me in a meaningful way. That the most they can do is contain me indefinitely. I would be the sort of monstrosity that people like the League fight when they inevitably break out and threaten all creation."

Mr. Zatara straightens up slightly. "Is that something that you want?"

"No, of course not. But it's like… It's a sign of respect, you know? That I'm so dangerous that they'd need to do that. Hey, do you think Batman's working on something like that?"

"I would be surprised if he was not."

We stand there looking at each other for a moment.

"So, John Constantine?"

"I believe that I can feel the magic he used, even beneath all of these… Charms. It is an interesting variation on his usual synchronicity magic, allowing him to shift into a form he had earlier in his life."

"So he can convince the world to treat him as a normal man rather than a Lord of Chaos."

"Yes. If John Constantine has ever been a normal man."

"That might go some way to explaining why I haven't been able to find him."

"It would allow him to hide that he was hiding by creating a presence that was not his. That does not necessarily mean that this is how he has avoided you."

"Because John's made a career out of juking beings in my weight class, I know."

"Or he is avoiding you because you are not convenient, and will call upon you when he has need of you."

"If I knew for certain that's what it was, then I wouldn't be looking for him." I raise my eyebrows. "Can we use what you detected to find him?"

He thinks for a moment.

"It might be possible to use the runic array in orbit to detect similar feats of magic. I do not think that I have the power to perform the spell required, but Doctor Mist will."

"Which won't find John, but might tell us where he's been."

"Or other people using the same spell. Do you have any knowledge of John's prior incarnations?"

"No. Honestly, I'm surprised that he had any. That usually requires some link to a mythos that has reincarnation."

"We live in a multicultural age, Paul."

"He had access to the Tower of Fate. I'm… Wondering if he could adapt the spell he learned for something else."

"Speaking with the previous incarnation of someone else?"

"Maybe… I just don't think John would look for advice from himself. Not about something like this."

"He may simply have been eliminating possibilities. But unless you have a clue of some sort, finding out will have to wait until we can ask him ourselves." He takes a last look around the flat. "I will speak with Doctor Mist about the spell."

"Thank you."

"Do not mention it. I do not like the idea of John unsupervised any more than I like the idea of you unsupervised."

"Thank you."

He turns away and opens the front door, marching out into the London streets. I take a moment-

"Try and be a good guest."

-and send out a wave of orange light, cleaning, tidying and performing minor repairs. Oh, and replacing asbestos and lead with things less deleterious to human health. Feeling slightly happier about the spick and span look of the place, I follow Mr. Zatara through the door and lock it behind us.

 

[Mr Zoat]

7th November 2012
11:35 GMT

Dr. Balewa nods. "Yes, it can be done. It can even be done legally, though I am not-" He frowns. "-sure that the laws concerning magic are well thought through."

"It's the nice thing about having a Security Council majority that doesn't give a fig about privacy or know anything about magic."

"I am not comfortable with this."

"Then… You should probably have spent more of your life teaching, I guess." He looks at me in an interrogative manner. "You're old enough and powerful enough to have had plenty of opportunities to fix things about human civilisation that you don't like."

"My magic does not make me omniscient."

I hold up my right hand, shaking my head. "I'm not talking about crowning yourself God-King of Earth. I'm talking about educating decision-makers so they're a bit less ignorant." I shrug. "I don't actually mind you not having done it-"

That is a direct lie, and I wish Diana was here to hear it.

"-but it's a bit rich to complain about the consequences now."

"I suppose that I should take my share of responsibility. But I em not to blame for the wilful ignorance of thousands of men for dozens of generations."

I don't know about that. At this point he should probably have a good idea of how people think and behave. I don't expect much from most people, much as I'd like them to surprise me. But if you're going to be on the League you've really got to take that responsibility.

But moving on.

"So… Are you willing to? Do you need me to do anything?"

He turns his head towards Mr. Zatara. "Are you certain that this is necessary?"

He nods. "I think that it is for the best. John Constantine is not someone who should be left unobserved."

"Then I shall do it. I do not need any materials, but it will take an hour for me to fully acclimatise myself to Earth's thaumic systems, even with the array's aid."

I nod. "Um. I'm never really sure, but… Do you want me to stay here to… Show that I'm paying attention, or should I just come back in an hour?"

He waves me away with his right hand. "You are free to leave. I will send you the locations when I em finished."

"Thank you. I'll-."

"But before you go, I think that I should ask if you are going to do anything which is likely to cause a large disruption to Earth's thaumic fields."

"Does overthrowing Zeus count?"

"If it were something that you had not yet done, then it would count."

"I'm trying to avoid…" Um. "Would making all plants on Earth highly deadly to demons count?"

"Yes." / "What do you mean?"

"Okay, you remember how I gave Euanthe a piece of wood I got from Eden, and she used it to give herself anti-demon thorn armour?"

Mr. Zatara's face falls slightly. "She is going to do the same to all of Brazil."

"Less Brazil, more the entire world. Other than disrupting long-running demon magic based spells I couldn't see a downside so I just left her to it."

Dr. Balewa and Mr. Zatara share a slightly awkward look.

"I think that perhaps I should go to Brazil."

"Um, okay, but I don't think Euanthe ever met you, and… Have you ever met Doctor Isley?"

"Yes. Once. While I was in Gotham and she was Poison Ivy."

"Okay, look, I understand what this sounds like? But maybe you should leave this one to me."

He looks at me. After a moment his mouth twitches into something that might be trying to be a smile, but then it dies.

"Why don't we both go."

"Ah, okay. Do you want me to go first and make a zeta tube construct? I'm pretty sure that there aren't any zeta tubes near their temple-palace."

"Thank you, that would be helpful."

I nod, raising my right hand to my forehead.

"Rightho. See you shortly."

7th November 2012
08:38 GMT -3

I generate a zeta tube construct as I have a look around. The growth appears to have.. grown slightly, but otherwise not much has changed in the last-

"Recognised, Zatara, One One."

-week. Mr. Zatara looks around as he appears, taking everything in as if for the first… Time.

"Have you not been here since they took over?"

"Legally, this is a nation in a civil war. The League is not supposed to choose a side."

"Which is reasonable, except that it might have reassured other countries if you spoke to the Accala or Euanthe about what their plans were." Hm, why would-? "Oh."

"Yes."

"Because if there was a peace settlement, then Accalacan would get a seat in the United Nations General Assembly."

"Why do you assume that it would stop there? The Accala control a large area of South America, an army of superpowered soldiers and a ruler who can control all of the plants in the world."

"But they've… Got no economy, no trade, and they certainly won't assume Brazil's debts. Atlantis would be a better choice for the Security Council than Accalacan would be."

"Perhaps. But people do not see Atlantis, and Atlantis has been happy to stay under water ever since it sank. And everyone knows that Accalacan could conquer the rest of South America if it wanted to."

True. And the reason they haven't is that the Accala and their immediate allies don't particularly want to rather than any actual difficulty they'd encounter.

I find myself frowning as we walk into the temple-palace.

 

[Mr Zoat]

7th November 2012
08:49 GMT -3

I mean, yes, France and Britain hold onto their seats more due to the power they had in the early 20th century rather than their current power. Pre-Sheeda Brazil might have qualified if the Accala had come to terms, and I think I remember reading an article about Brazil Prime being a candidate for eventual elevation. But there isn't an objective standard. It's more 'was this country strong enough to demand a seat at the table when they were being handed out'.

I mean, Germany or India-. Once India recovers from the Sheeda. Germany has a modern army and India has nuclear weapons. Both have decent economies. But Pakistan wouldn't be happy with India getting a seat, and… China probably wouldn't be all that happy either. Germany is… Fairly harmless? Historical jokes aside, they've got good relations with their neighbours. No nuclear weapons, but that's more a matter of desire than technical capacity.

Oh, no, the Russians and Chinese would see them as being too close to America. I seem to remember the idea of Japan Prime being upped getting quashed for the same reason. I wonder if there's actually been any sort of discussion about what the standard is? I mean, the scariest country on Earth at the moment is Bir Tawil, and that doesn't even have any inhabitants most of the time.

I wonder if I could get-?

"This way."

Walking ahead of me, Mr. Zatara heads up a bark-covered staircase and up to the next floor. A doorway made up of interwoven root-covered vines peels open, revealing Dr. Isley behind an actual desk covered in… Paperwork.

An.. ink-fern which reminds me a little of Swamp Thing's old shampoo fruit-.

"Shampoo!"

Dr. Isley looks up from her work with a half-smile and runs her left hand through her hair.

"I'm glad you noticed."

"No, we were just-. Your hair's beautiful, but I was thinking that you can actually put Swamp Thing's shampoo plant into mass production."

"Why would I want to?"

Mr. Zatara glances at me before giving Dr. Isley his full attention. "I think that Paul has taken my comment about joining the Security Council more to heart than I intended."

"Security Council?" Dr. Isley looks understandably confused. "Is that why you're here? You need to talk to Hugo about that. He handles international relations."

"No. I am here because Paul has just told me about Euanthe's plan to make all plant life poison to demons."

She smiles faintly. "I get the impression that he just drops things like that in the middle of the conversation."

"Yes, he does."

"It's not that I like doing it, it's just how things happen. The world is a strange and magical place and it's not my fault if people can't keep up with me."

Dr. Isley finishes making some sort of note and then allows her ink fern to retract its-. Stigma!

"And you should sell those as well."

"The ink quality isn't good enough to compete against normal pens and they only produce for about a month a year if you don't use magic on them." She returns her attention to Mr. Zatara. "Do you want her to stop? Because I don't think she'll listen."

"No, but I would like to see her work. I am concerned that what she is doing may have unintended consequences."

Dr. Isley shrugs, standing up from her desk. "She hasn't moved, so I can show you to her. I don't know if she'll actually talk to you or not. Do you do a lot of magic with plants?"

"No, but I could if it would help."

"She doesn't like it when I do that."

Mr. Zatara starts slightly. "I thought that you were incapable of doing magic."

"No, I can't use my soul to interface with the local thaumosphere in the normal way. That doesn't mean that I can't do magic at all. But since Euanthe told me not to do it anymore I've stopped experimenting."

"She made you stop experimenting?"

I roll my eyes. "Yes, funny. I assumed that if it was that uncomfortable to her that it was doing some sort of damage I couldn't perceive and so I stopped, given that she clearly doesn't have a problem with humans who know what they're doing manipulating plants."

Dr. Isley frowns. "That makes me a little curious… But if she told you not to do it, don't do it."

"Not a problem." I take another look at her desk. "Do you have a paper tree as well?"

She blinks, then stares at me-.

"Yes I know where paper comes from. I know how big an operation commercial paper making is, and I don't think that the Accala or their allies have any paper mills."

"I created a type of tree that grows sheets of paper as part of its seed pod. But we don't have any printers." She sighs. "I miss computers already."

I nod. "Not a problem. Excuse me."

I bring my right hand up to my forehead,

sight my destination and step out, reappearing

7th November 2012
11:53 GMT

on J, near their computer research centre. If I'm honest, compared to the giant trees that serve as their residences, this whole place looks like an oak apple. Like something's-

"Agh!"

-gone badly wrong with the whole thing.

I wave at the back of the fleeing local and head over to where Enneret is smoking a… Blood cigar?

"Enneret."

He waves a couple of fronds at me. "Lantern."

"How's work?"

"Good. You?"

"One of my homeworld's continents now looks a lot more like a place you could call home." I nod at the building. "Have they got a working home computer yet?"

"Yes." He perks up quite a bit. "Much better than what Alstair had before. Queen Hyathis is very pleased."

"Are they ready for export?"

"Export?" He puts out his cigar, stowing it in his clothing. "That would need to get approved by both parties to the agreement, but given how far away Earth is that shouldn't be a problem. I didn't think you had that many druids."

"Earth laughs at declarative statements. Who do I need to talk to?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

7th November 2012
10:28 GMT -3

Dr. Isley looks around as I materialise, prize in a large case in my right hand.

"What's that? Why can't I feel it?"

"Warded. There's an alien plant inside. Euanthe never had any problem with those before, but given how heavily engineered it is I thought I'd check that no one was doing anything that required intense concentration."

"What does it-? A plant computer?"

"I know of two planets with advanced plant-based civilisations. I introduced them about a year and a half ago, and they've been cooperating ever since. If Euanthe turns out to be able to handle this-" I raise the case slightly, then lower it again. "-I can arrange for a visit."

"How many did you get?"

"Just one, to test out. They can make more pretty quickly, but after you study it for a bit you might be able to make your own."

"Did you actually want us on the UN Security Council?"

"No, no-. I mean, I don't.. have an opinion. If I wanted it to happen I'd be doing more work than this. But if you get there, then-"

"Hugo's the head of state."

"-go him." I nod at Euanthe and Mr. Zatara. They're sitting in the lotus position facing one another, Euanthe's bonsai plant floating in the air between them. "What are they doing?"

"Checking what will happen if Euanthe succeeds. Zatara offered to help her with it if she helped him first."

"How much longer do they have to go?"

"I don't know. What they're doing… It's on a level far beyond anything I can do."

"But you're watching carefully and learning from it?"

"I was. Now I've lost my place."

"Ah. Sorry."

"No. No, the job comes first." She exhales. "I'm not used to having people depend on me. Or… Look up to me. Not since Gotham University."

"Didn't you used to employ a few henchpeople?"

"As Pois-." She shakes her head. "In Gotham, I thought they were idiotic meatbags helping me cause their extinction. I didn't think of them as actual colleagues. I wouldn't have noticed how they felt about me."

"Do you talk to any of them now?"

She shakes her head.

"Do you-?"

"Doctor Mist to Orange Lantern."

"Excuse me." I raise my ring to my left ear. "Orange Lantern here. Are you ready to perform the scan?"

"That is not quite how it works. I em contacting you because I have detected someone using the spell now."

"Now? Where?"

"In Northern Ireland, the city of Belfast."

"What?" I frown. "But the only.. person there-."

Ah.

I hand the case to Dr. Isley.

"Please work on this with Euanthe when she comes out of this. I'm afraid that this requires my immediate personal attention."

"I will send you the coordinates."

"Thank you, but I think I've got a pretty good idea where he is."

"If you know where he is, why have you not already made contact?"

"Because he wasn't there. Moving

now."

7th November 2012
13:28 GMT

I appear in the air, a.. short distance from the office of a major publisher. I've been here before and I recognise the desires there. But my target… There. A restaurant, getting lunch.

"Should I join you?"

"That-."

I want to say, 'that won't be necessary, thank you', but the fact is that my relationship with the British government is nothing like good enough to storm in, do my thing and then leave without it causing a huge mess for everyone else. Whereas Dr. Balewa has a Justice League warrant, can legally make arrests and is by default treated as the expert that he is in the field of magic.

"Would be helpful, thank you."

An arc of white runes flicker in the air, vanishing as he steps through.

"What do you know?"

"Once upon a time, a magician called John Constantine wanted to avoid going to hell."

I drop down to street level, causing a minor disturbance in the local population. Though it's not so much 'run and hide' as 'get your camera'. Winds roil next to me as Dr. Balewa appears. Once he's regained his composure I march in the direction of the restaurant.

"So he created a golem with his blood and magic, and gave it enough of his memories that it could stand in for him in the ritual sacrifice. And the only good memory he gave it is his memory of his relationship with professional illustrator Kathryn Ryan. Suffice to say, the Demon Constantine doesn't like his progenitor-"

I shove open the restaurant door and march inside.

"-very much."

Everyone's staring at us, though only Ms. Ryan does so with any sort of familiarity. I've only spoken to her twice, but I'm fairly distinctive. The man opposite her, with violet strands trailing between them… Clearly isn't The Demon Constantine.

Very clearly.

I can even see the desire set that doesn't match his at all.

And we know that those desires weren't there a year ago.

I form a construct around him and yank him out of his seat.

"Hey! What the feck-!"

And we feed on the spell and it collapses, causing his appearance to snap back to John's before rotting into his demonic form.

"You're under arrest. Again."

 

[Mr Zoat]

7th November 2012
13:46 GMT

"…John Fecking Constantine!"

I nod sympathetically as Ms. Ryan paces, rants and gesticulates. She turns back to stare at me.

"Were you watching?"

"I have been attempting to track John down for a while, but I only checked on you on those occasions I introduced myself. I didn't even know that you were dating, much less your partner's true identity."

"And I can't believe you." She resumes her pacing. "I can't believe you! This is why I broke up with John in the first place."

"I can give you my full itinerary for the last two years if that helps. Though a lot of the details will be redacted, it should be enough to prove that -in the politest way possible- an Irish illustrator who briefly dated one of my contacts isn't someone it makes sense for me to spend a lot of time watching."

"Fine." She shakes her head. "Now what's happened with that hallion John Constantine?"

"Don't know. I'm looking for him, and we tracked The Demon down because he used a spell we know that John used."

"What is it-? He?"

"Simple as I can put it, it's a demon John created using his own memories. He included his memories of his relationship with you, which-"

"That-! Fecking-! Bastard!"

"-is why The Demon chose to seek you out. In his defence, we have no reason to believe that it meant you any harm."

"It was wearin' somebody else's face!"

"It's entirely possible-" Ring, check.

Compliance.

"-that the face didn't belong to anyone and was a novel creation."

Statement is incorrect.

Well, did he at least pick a dead-?

No.

So that's a murder investigation now. Pass it on to the police and Dr. Balewa.

Compliance.

"And even if it wasn't, he's a demon. He's stronger and tougher than a baseline human, before you even take the magic into account. If he meant to do you harm-. We should check your home."

Her face falls. "You think he-?"

"No, but it would be unwise to take a chance. Doctor Mist is a highly capable magician and will be able to find anything… Though if he acts like John there'd be… One fetish and maybe a mark of some kind. Nothing too heavy duty."

She signs. "God."

"I imagine that the police will want to contact you for more details. Do you want to phone someone, or do you want me to escort you-?"

"No. No." She shakes her head. "Fecking-. I'm going back to work, and then I'm joining a fecking nunnery!"

"I would advise against making any major life choices while under this sort of stress. There are many perfectly good men out there."

She manages a fraction of a smile.

"Not in my age group there aren't."

"Um. Doctor Mist is single?"

She shakes her head. "No. I'm going back to work. You get the bastard, and the bastard who made him."

"We will, and you have my sympathy for what you've been through."

"'Been through'?" She shakes her head. "He was the perfect boyfriend. That's why I'm so-! Angry now!"

"On the off-chance that -aside from lying about who he is- he's been honest and not-."

"You asking me if I want to keep him? No, no, a thousand times no."

"That's clear at least." I perform a shallow bow. "Thank you for your time."

I step out,

reappearing outside of Dr. Balewa's workshop on the Watchtower.

Britain hasn't gotten around to building a new prison for magicians. Instead, they've signed an agreement to send such people to Spain, where the European Union has pooled their assets to hire Atlanteans to build one. That might have to be revised if magic use becomes more common but for now Europe doesn't have enough magicians for more prisons to be necessary.

I think the Atlanteans studying John Dee's work in the Tower of London are more fascinated as to how the heck it kept working this long than impressed with its construction.

"Doctor?"

"Come in."

I press the open button, then walk into the workshop. The rest of the room looks more like a cross between a library and an alchemist's workshop than the sort of place that Sephtian uses, but I imagine that's due to the fact that he's not a trained thaumaturgist. The Demon Constantine is being held in a kneeling position by phantasmal hands, not bothering to struggle against them. His head's bowed and his hair is flopping forward to half-obscure his eyes. The air around him shimmers with the spell that Dr. Balewa is using to keep his magic contained.

"John, we're looking for John. Tell us where he is and I'll try talking Waller into letting you have a potted plant."

"I don't know where he is."

"John, our rules of engagement won't let me turn you into a construct, but both myself and Doctor Mist can perform temporary modifications to your thought processes if we-. If he judges it necessary to the performance of our duties. I don't think they'd have a lasting impact, but you would find the process quite uncomfortable."

"You can use Wonder Woman's lasso if you like. I really don't know."

"Then do you have any leads?"

"Yeah. One or two."

"Would you care to volunteer them?"

"Bit pointless drawing it out. Make it a cactus? I don't want something I can kill too easy."

"I see no harm in asking about a cactus."

"Last time I saw him, he was behind some heavy duty wards while looking at… I don't know what he was looking at. Seemed interesting. I don't know where he is right now, but I can show you where he was and give Mist a description of the spell. Good enough?"

"That would be splendid."

 

[Mr Zoat]

2nd November 2282
17:49 CDT

"You're a little late there, Krono. We were starting to get worried."

I nod absently, the handset of the truck's radio in my right hand.

"We were attacked, Lieutenant Governor Granite. Some novel sort of robot, a squad of them."

"Casualties?"

"Thirteen dead, two of mine and eleven of yours. Our air cover's fallen back for repairs. We dealt with the injured in situ."

I can almost hear him blink in confusion. "Where's that?"

"Near where we were attacked, just outside the radiation belt."

"What sorta weapons did the robots have?"

"Gamma radiation-based guns. The type the basic robots had would burn through regular combat armour, and the support variant made a mess of two of our trucks. We had to leave one behind. They also had force field shields, and I think their control systems were networked. They could coordinate perfectly, though they didn't seem to be able to detect my Ghosts."

"Power armour?"

"We don't have power armour with us. Given how it affected the truck armour, I think the support weapon would penetrate most types of power armour."

"Hell. What about their armour?"

"Gauss guns went through it easily enough, though that didn't stop them unless it hit somewhere vital. No particular resistance to psychic powers."

"Any get away?"

"Yes. Three. I didn't think it was a good idea to follow them into their territory."

"Think they're headed our way?"

"We didn't see them last time we drove through, or any time before. They weren't impeded by the radiation at all. We salvaged the wrecks and I'm hoping that your people would have a look at them."

"Can do. You gunna head back out right away?"

"No. Given your shortage of power armour, I think it would be best if my people stuck around for a little while, until we know one way or the other if the robots are a threat to you."

"I appreciate that. I'll let the Governor know and we'll sort out somewhere for you to stay until this gets sorted out."

Which is going to be awkward. East Coast Enclave weren't… Quite as genocidal as the West Coast Purists, but they're uncomfortable being this dependant on someone who isn't hailing them as the rightful government of America. Getting their arses kicked twice by some random vault dweller rather took the wind out of their sails, but they wouldn't be the Enclave if they were a friendly, easy going sort of people.

"I'll see you shortly. Over and out."

I put the radio down, and take a moment to look through the truck's front window. Dust storms are very common in this part of the states, and most of the dust is radioactive. It's not much of a problem for the Enclave's G.E.C.K., which will happily keep feeding on radiation long after its initial miraculous activation, but it wrecks our visibility. If we ran into something we'd get next to no notice. I've never seen a feral ghoul capable of controlling complex machinery but we've had the occasional 'ghoul strike' while driving through here before. And those robots weren't bothered by radiation.

I can't see anything much but the road directly ahead of us, and psychometry isn't giving me anything either.

"How long until we get there?"

The driver glances at me. I instinctively want to tell him to watch the road, but there's no other traffic and the road is ruler-straight.

"Couple of minutes until we get clear, then another half-hour to Independence City."

I nod, patting him on the shoulder. "Let me know if you see anything."

"Will do, chief."

I carefully extricate myself from my seat and turn around, opening the armoured hatch between the cabin and the troop compartment and walking through, then sealing it behind me.

"That Granite?"

Sergeant Dornan's face betrays no emotion, his eyes fixed on me.

"Yes."

"How did that happen?"

"He and his squad turned up in Groom Lake pretending to be wastelanders after they skipped town ahead of Doctor Anderson's assassins. We knew they weren't, but they had more education than my tribe so we put them to work fixing up the old air base. When Anderson lost New Reno I realised that keeping him with me might risk alienating the New California Republic." I shrug. "I already had Independence City going, so it seemed like a good place to send them."

His eyes narrow slightly.

"Is that so."

I smile and nod. "I had some people watching Elder Lyons. My people's aircraft make long distance scouting easy, and we wanted to know where every Brotherhood chapter was. Lyons seemed like a good man, so my Ghosts decided to lend him a hand."

By breaking into their food storage lockers and leaving fresh fruit and vegetables, something that eventually resulted in them trapped in some Elmer Fudd rabbit trap the Brotherhood's half-crazed quartermaster rigged up and needing me to bail them out.

"After the East Coast Enclave lost their confrontation with everyone else in Washington DC, I decided that evacuating them was preferable to losing their technical expertise."

Dornan grunts.

"Why was it that you decided to back Anderson over Granite? I understand Anderson hating wastelanders after he was taken as a slave, but you lived in California and Nevada for years. You must have known that the wastelanders were just people."

"I had my reasons."

"I do need to know that you're not going to try murdering the Lieutenant Governor."

"Anderson's not alive to give me orders. I'll only kill Granite if Autumn orders me to."

"I'm pretty sure that Governors aren't allowed to order National Guardsmen to kill their Lieutenant Governors. America isn't supposed to be a military dictatorship, Sergeant. And Iowa certainly isn't. We're not acting under a State of Emergency; we've transitioned back to normal civilian rule. The rule of law and the Constitution of the United States of America."

"If that's what Autumn orders me to do, that's what I'll do."

And the rest of the Enclave soldiers in the truck are going to take their lead from him, even if they're not going to say anything. Lieutenant Orwich has their respect as their officer. Dornan's an institution. And I think… He's not committing because he doesn't want to have to make another choice after his last big one blew up so badly. He hasn't seen what we've done in Iowa and for all his deranged patriotism hasn't ever lived in America. He doesn't get it, and given his age probably won't.

"I-."

"Krono!" The shout comes from our driver. "Leaving the dust now!"

I nod, and after a moment's hesitation reach back and pull open the interlock door.

"Ladies and gentlemen, take a look at your new home."

 

[Mr Zoat]

7th November 2012
09:22 GMT -5

Slaughter Swamp. The magical arsehole of Connecticut. Place of unbirth of Solomon Grundy and a Sheeda swarming ground, burned with considerable white phosphorus prejudice by the US air force during the Harrowing. Not that that changed the water table, but as I look past the burned tree stumps and hard-baked ground to the civil engineering crew who are working to turn this into Slaughter River Through Reclaimed Agricultural Land, I'm forced to conclude that we're unlikely to get a trace on John Constantine here.

Did he have some sort of foreknowledge? Was it just obvious that the place was no good, so he used it to disguise himself? Or is the Demon just listing places we can't possibly check?

No, no, he knows that if it comes to it we can just ask Diana to lasso him. The only reason he'd lie was if he needed to delay us to a particular point in time, and given that we interrupted him in the middle of a date that seems unlikely. I mean, he might well have automatically triggering contingencies, but since there's nothing that can extricate him from a prison Dr. Balewa built for him the worst that can happen is that some confederates we don't know about go into hiding and it's John that I'm looking for.

"Orange Lantern to Doctor Mist. I don't think I'm going to find anything here. Moving to next site."

"Understood."

I transition to a small farm in Kansas, frowning slightly as three FBI-owned cars pull off the verge and drive away. Not sure what that was about.

And I'm also not sure that a foreigner like me can even access the Heartland, but I've got my flag, my apple pie and my Happy Meal. And… I put a strip of chewing gum in my mouth.

"Flipping rituals."

When I was very young, I heard something about chewing gum causing an increase in stomach acid production which would cause potentially fatal stomach ulcers. I avoided it like the plague ever since, and developed a bit of a complex about chewing in general.

I chew, once. And check for recording equipment, because I'll need to put actual effort into this. Make it sound genuine.

Deep breath.

"Abraham Lincoln in Sixty two,
Your guidance lead us through,
And now your spirit shall aid us,
In subduing the Kaiser too."

Oh please Nike open the damn yes!

I fly at speed to a patch of ground where the grass looks just a little too green, and as my feet land on it-! The farm vanishes, the road vanishes, and I'm surrounded by empty grassland and-. That's a herd of buffalo.

The Heartland. America's collective delusion about its true nature.

No, that's a little harsh. The generous version would be to describe it as a dream of all the best characteristics of the nation. I think Robert mentioned something about a English version called Abaton, though it.. sounded like a silly place.

"Uncle Sam! Firebrand Two!" One of the buffalo looks up at me for a moment, then goes back to grazing. "Anyone?! I'm looking for John Constantine, and I'm not afraid to plant a Union Jack standard here if that's what it takes!"

I hear the cry of a bald eagle, and then the ruffling of wings as it comes in for a landing nearby. It furls its wings and looks at me expectantly.

"What?"

"Is that a Happy Meal?"

Talking eagle. Fine. I disintegrate the chewing gum, the foul substance having served its purpose.

"Yes?"

"You gunna eat it?"

"Of course not, it's a Happy Meal."

"You mind passing it over, then?"

"Ah. I'm not sure this is eagle-safe. In.. fact, I'm fairly confident that it's not."

"Is it American?"

"Yes."

"Then it's safe for this eagle." He cranes his neck towards the bag. "Come on, man. Do you know how long it's been since I smelled McDonalds?"

"No. I-."

I sigh. Then I open the bag, then the box, then unwrap the burger and lay it on the ground. The eagle does a hop-run closer and jams its beak into the bun in a decidedly uneaglelike manner.

"Thanks, buddy."

"Do you want the..? Fries as well?"

"Yeah I want the fries. If the question is 'do you want fries with that?', the answer is always 'yes'."

I tear through one surface of the small packet of fries and lay it on the ground next to the burger. "So..? You represent the American obesity epidemic?"

"No." He picks up the lettuce leaf in his right claw and tosses it aside. "Freedom."

"I've got a couple of questions."

"And you're free to answer them."

"Have you seen a British man named John Constantine?"

"Blue suit, long jacket, blond hair? Yes, he came through here a few years ago."

"'A few' as in one or two, or 'a few' as in longer?"

He swallows some burger as he thinks about it.

"It's not that easy to keep track of time in here, but I think it was longer."

Darn it. The Demon wasn't lying, but it's not useful.

"Do you want the orange juice as well?"

He peers up at me.

"Of course I don't want the orange juice. I'm an eagle."

"Right. How silly of me. How about Uncle Sam?"

"Haven't seen him for years."

"Is that unusual?"

"He basically lives here. Or he used to. Went out one day in Seventy Four and didn't come back."

"That sounds like something you should be worried about."

"Easy come, easy go."

"Could you track him down if you were in the material world?"

"Maybe. Probably. Why?"

"Because while I've been getting distracted a lot lately, this sounds like something that I need to fix."

 

[Mr Zoat]

7th November 2012
09:46 GMT -5

"F-eh."

The eagle's head darts left and right, fascinated Americans careful to keep out of potential lunge-distance but none the less forming a huddle of street-theatre appreciation. We're walking the streets of Washington to see if he can pick anything up. Or rather, I am while he rides along on a construct perch. So far he hasn't got a dickybird.

"What?"

"What's that smell?"

"How old are you?"

"I was here to greet the first European settlers." He ruffles his wings. "My cries echoing out across the bay, welcoming them to a land where men might stand tall."

"Funny, I don't remember Leif Erikson mentioning that."

He swivels his head towards me. "Who?"

I roll my eyes, and he goes back to watching for… Whatever eagelic manifestations of American Freedom watch for. "I mean, compared to the older American cities, I don't believe that Washington DC smells that bad."

"Are you talking about shit?"

"Shit, sweat, the unwashed masses with limited access to sanitation. Things like that."

"I'm an eagle. I don't care about human shit. Unless there's blood it in."

"Why, what's..?"

"Well, I wouldn't kill a human, but if they're going to die anyway there's no point wasting the meat."

"Ah… Just… Let me know if you smell… Human blood like that while I'm here."

"You want some?"

"No, but I'm willing to trade American food for the opportunity to get people medical attention."

"Deal."

"So… Do you have a name, or are you just The Eagle of Freedom?"

"That's not a name, that's a title." He points his wing out in what can't be a natural gesture for an eagle. "What's over that way?"

"About a quarter of the city? In a direct line…" Fiddlesticks. "The White House, where Uncle Sam is currently visiting."

"Sam doesn't smell like that."

"Well, maybe…" I take another look at the crowd. A few people are just following us along, creating an obstacle for the traffic as we go. "Don't talk about it where other people might hear that and report back?"

"Oh, no. None of these people can hear me. I'm a spirit animal."

So they've been recording me talking to an eagle… Acting like I was having a conversation with an eagle-.

"Okay, but they can see you, can't they?"

"Of course they can see me, I'm a giant bald eagle. Did you think they were seeing a budgie?"

"I don't know, you're a spirit animal. Last time I dealt with a spirit animal for any length of time, it was a construct enslaved to my ring. And it died."

"Yes, they all see a huge and glorious eagle, and they feel just a bit more proud and liberated. That's why they're following us."

"No, I think that's more of a 'follow the fuckhead' thing. We're street theatre."

"No, I'm pressing their cultural buttons and making their spirits resonate with the soul of the nation." He spreads his wings and poses for the crowd. "Feel my American spirit!"

"You said they can't understand you."

"No, I said they can't understand what I'm saying."

"I could set my rings to translate for you, if you want."

"This is a spiritual journey for you. It's not supposed to be for everyone."

"Like A-."

"Yes like America. Everyone has a chance to soar, everyone has a chance to plummet to their death because they misjudged a thermal. Do you see a parachute on my back?"

"No."

"No. That's right. And speaking of America, where's the Japanese embassy?"

"Massachusetts Avenue. Why?"

"Not a lot of Shinto shrines around here, but there should be one in the embassy."

I frown. "I can just fly us to-."

He flaps his wings as if to demonstrate his vigour. "I'm not a cripple, I'm just inclined to preserve my energy. It's a wild predator thing."

I pick up the perch and fly towards the embassy, to the pronounced disappointment of the crowd. "You mean lazy."

"It's instinctual."

"Why do we need a Shinto shrine?"

"I know Lady Liberty 'diversified her portfolio', and I need to talk to her."

"Will she understand what you're saying?"

"Of course she'll understand what I'm saying. We're part of the same pantheon, even if she has jumped ship."

"And you're not upset about that?"

"It's not easy being a spiritual manifestation in a monotheistic country. Besides, the Japanese could use some personal liberty."

"I'm pretty sure they've got liberty."

"No, the doors are open, but their minds are stuck in their pens. You know?"

"I know what you mean, but I'm not sure you're right."

"Let me know when you become a spirit animal."

I stop in the air and stare at him, my human body retreating and my snake body coming to the fore.

"Like now?"

"Ooooh I just guanoed myself. Okay. Spirit snake animal. Yeah."

"Right. I've just got a job."

"I have a job. And when I find him I'm going to peck Uncle Sam in the face until he gets back to doing his."

 

[Mr Zoat]

7th November 2012
09:52 GMT -5

I wave at the Japanese soldiers converging-but-not-too-quickly on me and the eagle.

"Nothing to worry about. We just need to borrow your shrine to talk to one of your gods really quickly."

The sergeant is demonstrating why he's the sergeant, already on the radio and getting instructions while the rest just take in… Yeah, I know how that sounded. People need to get used to statements like that. He nods, smiles at me and waves me through.

"Thank you."

"Private Tanaka! Escort Orange Lantern!"

"Sir!"

The indicated private marches into the building, two of his colleagues opening the door for us.

"This is nice." The eagle looks around as we walk through the building, nodding appreciatively. "I don't get this treatment in American embassies."

"I'm sure there's a metaphor there."

Down a corridor, through a door, and then turn off through another door. Private Tanaka stands aside and indicates an image of… I think that's Susano-o-no-Mikoto, appropriately enough, along with various decorations.

"Thank you, this will be perfect. Do you want to watch?"

"Sir, I am a Christian!"

"Then, thank you, please return to your post."

He about-faces and walks out, rotates to firmly sneck the door and then marches away.

The eagle then leaps off his perch and flies at the-. Dives into the image, a painting of an eagle in flight appearing next to the multi-departmental deity.

"Orange Lantern to Doctor Mist."

There's a delay of a few moments.

"Doctor Mist here. Can I assume that he was not there?"

"You can. I've acquired an eagle."

"I do not think that you are supposed to take them from the wild."

"No, from the Heartland. He represents freedom or.. something, and he's helping track down Uncle Sam."

"He is not helping you to track down John Constantine?"

"Ultimately we need to find both of them. There can't be that many high-end magical hiding places."

"You are quite wrong in that assumption. There are at least as many hiding places as there are minds on Earth."

I frown. "You think he could be hiding in someone else's mind?"

"I have been trying to understand John Constantine's mind. To understand why he does the things that he does."

"Overwhelming curiosity and learned ruthlessness?"

"Do you understand what is meant by synchronicity wave riding?"

"Roughly. Moving in time with the universe. The Question does it as well." Hm. "Sounds a bit like a Jedi thing, really."

"Tell a person of an ancient spiritual practice and they stare at you blankly. Mention something out of a George Lucas movie and suddenly everybody is a thaumaturgy scholar."

"That's a surprisingly modern reference for you?"

"In my second century of life, I developed a technique to allow a portion of the Dream to intrude into the world in response to a storyteller's words. I could even preserve the shared dream in a bottle so that it would be experienced later. Cinema is a poor substitute in some ways, but I like it. To return to the point: I believe that I can understand why he has done what he has done."

"Well, yes. He couldn't cope with being connected to Order and Chaos at the same time."

"He usurped Klarion's greater arcane presence. He did not do the same to Nabu."

"Is that a deduction on your part, or do you actually know that?"

"John Quinn has allowed me to study the Helmet of Fate, now that it is… Empty."

"It's empty?"

"Nabu is no longer at home. The power of Order flows through it more freely now that it is not interrupted by a mind."

"Did you ever meet Nabu while he was..? Alive?"

"No. I did feel his presence when he first arrived on Earth, but by the time I reached Kahndaq to meet him he was already using host bodies. The point which I wish to make is that John's relationship with Order is fundamentally different to his relationship to Chaos."

"Alright. I mean, he can't pawn off his Chaos power in the same way he did the Helmet."

"On the contrary, it is my belief thet he would seek to do just thet. John Constantine is not a man who seeks responsibility. I do not think thet he would throw it aside if it came to him, but if he could escape it, I think thet he would."

I think about that for a minute. Yes, John had a shed or two filled with low to mid level magic artefacts. But he never really bothered to use them until he had a specific need for them. Otherwise… Well, the journey was the point, not the destination. But I don't remember him dumping stuff off, either.

Except that one time with Bran the Blessed's severed head, where he cooked it and fed it to some of his friends rather than trying to do something clever to boost himself. But I'm comfortable describing that as a statistical outlier.

"Yeah. I think you're right."

"He has a power which he does not want, but he will not toss it aside if it might harm others."

"Unless he were drunk or thought it the lesser of two evils. He's not that cunning."

"Who would he trust with thet power?"

"He'd synchronicity ride until he bumped into someone. Or into someone or something that… Let him find someone. That's why he asked about reincarnation."

"Thet is not all. There are rituals which make it easier for a person to become other than what they are. He may not have been looking for someone else, but rather looking for a way to become that person himself."

"That's certainly-."

I glance at the shrine, and-. And see that the picture is showing quite a lot of lightning and an eagle flying in my direction.

"Call you back!"

 

[Mr Zoat]

7th November 2012
09:56 GMT -5

Armour, construct shield with runes linking it to my tattoos to help it absorb magic, actual spell eaters and-.

The eagle bursts out of the shrine, back-winging to slow down as he ducks behind my fortification!

I'm staring at the shrine and the image isn't moving but that doesn't necessarily mean that it isn't about to.

"Eagle?"

"We have a problem."

"Details? What did Lady Liberty say?"

"Didn't see her. That Susano guy intercepted me and he was not pleased to see me." I hear him ruffle his wings, and I glance at him-.

And spot the smoke rising from his tail-. Construct fire extinguisher!

"Agh!" His head jerks around and he spots the lingering smoke. "Oh. Thanks."

"Again, what happened?"

"He doesn't want us to find out what happened to Sam."

"Is that what he said? Because Lady Liberty didn't mind telling me that the person walking around dressed like Sam isn't Sam."

"No, he said that I 'should not disturb matters'."

"That doesn't mean that it's his personal desire."

"Of course it does. They're self-interested in the extreme. Anything that helps their pantheon, they do. Including sabotaging other pantheons." His ruffles his wings. "If they weaken our culture and subvert our nexuses, they can alter it into something they can use, their manga and anime and mutating girls to have cat ears."

"I think you.. might be-."

"Culture is the form of the thoughts we can think, the mental landscapes in which we arrange our universe. And that goes double for things like us."

"I'm not arguing that point, but everyone likes cute girls and almost everyone likes cats. Ancient Kahndaqis had girls with cat ears. That's not a specifically Japanese invention."

"That's not the main point. The point is that Susano is competing to win, and if that means sabotaging every other culture then that's fine with him."

With no angry god forthcoming I dismiss my barricade construct.

"So you're not the embodiment of economic capitalistic freedom."

"No, I'm personal freedom and liberation from oppression. If someone runs a race faster than me then they get to win, but hamstringing the competition at the starting gate is still cheating."

"So you think that Susano thinks that whoever it is pretending to be Uncle Sam will sabotage American culture?"

"To his advantage."

"Did he say anything about John Constantine?"

"What?" He glances at the shrine. "Was I supposed to ask him about him?"

I sigh quietly. "No, I suppose not. Okay, plenty of people benefit from sabotaging American culture, me included. And I could probably replicate Uncle Sam's abilities if I had to. Do we have any leads on who they are or what their aims are-"

"The subvers-."

"-other than the very vague one you came up with."

"No. Eagles don't really investigate crimes."

"Do you have any ideas?"

"I could claw his face off?"

"You could claw a normal man's face off. This is someone who's successfully pretended to be Uncle Sam, who is stronger and tougher than a normal man."

"I'm stronger and tougher than a normal eagle when I'm fighting on the side of freedom."

"And I'm… Quite a bit stronger than an eagle."

"Yeah, um. Okay, I know that your heart yearns for freedom as much as anyone who isn't America can, but…"

"What?"

"If you fight fake Sam, real Sam might die."

Why would-?

"Because I have enough spiritual presence that destroying another nexus stamps my nature onto it in place of its own, and America really doesn't need to be more avaricious."

"Well… I was going to say that we might never find him if you kill the person who hid him, but what you said is true as well."

"Okay, but that still doesn't help us find Uncle Sam." I shake my head. "Orange Lantern to Doctor Mist."

"Are you well?"

"Heh, how would I tell? Eagle, do you want to try contacting Lady Liberty in another way, or something else?"

"I mean… We could try the statue."

"The statue depicting-."

"It's an American statue. Since she's jumped ship, she might not hear it."

"Okay, we may as well try it."

I return my armour to subspace and generate a construct perch, which the eagle jump-flaps onto. Then I start walking towards the embassy entrance.

"Is there any particular reason why another.. symbol of America can't defeat the fake Sam?"

"Like who?"

"Superman?"

"Not magical enough."

"Ah… Swamp Thing?"

He eyes me suspiciously. "I heard about Brazil. Is that going to be a thing with you?"

"No, it's just that America's a bit short of magical patriots. Ah, Zatanna Zatara?"

"She… Might work, but I'd really rather just get Sam back. I don't know what would happen if someone else stepped in and I'd really rather not find out if we don't have to."

"Alright, Statue of Liberty it is. And then if it doesn't work I need to check on one of Constantine's past locations while you come up with a new approach."

 

[Mr Zoat]

7th November 2012
10:03 GMT -5

"Hey!"

I turn and look at the Statue of Liberty's tiara window as a… Complete stereotype of an American tourist waves to get my attention. Male, overweight, collar of a Hawaiian shirt sticking up past the neck of his jumper and coat, an actual camera rather than a camera phone and an 'I ♥ NYC' baseball cap.

I suppose that stereotypes have to come from-.

I frown and look at the eagle.

"That's an actual tourist, right? Not some sort of Platonic manifestation of the touristic ideal?"

"What?" The eagle blinks, then leans forward to peer at the window. "No. That's just a guy."

"Okay."

I drift closer to the window, seeing a wallette of raised phones recording me as I do so.

Maybe cleaning the outside of the statue in a blaze of orange light wasn't the best idea.

"What can I do for you, sir?"

"You mind posing for a picture? With your eagle too?"

"Oh, he's not my eagle. He's an eagle-shaped manifestation of the American yearning for freedom."

"… Oh." … "Does he pose?"

"Ah." I look at the eagle. "Does he?"

"Do I-?" He twists his head to a ninety degree angle. "Bring the perch closer to the window."

I do so, then drop down slightly so that I'll be out of shot and he starts prancing. Wings out, head thrown back and neck undulating as he… Squeak-cries, before lowering his head and making a prey-mantling gesture with his wings. Then he raises his right leg and waves at the watchers, much to their delight.

"Is that magic, or are people just really easy to entertain?"

"Sideshow entertainments will never go out of fashion."

I lower my eyes to meet those of the statue, now filled with life.

"People love to be distracted from their troubles and shown something new and interesting."

I glance up, but no one is reacting to the talking statue.

"I assume that they can't hear you?"

"If there were any truly dedicated to the cause of liberty, they would be able to. Unfortunately, that sort of selflessness is-"

"Ma'am."

"-rare."

"Good morning, Blue Lantern."

Alan nods. "How worried should I be that the Statue of Liberty is talking?"

"Do you believe in the value of personal liberty?"

"Undoubtably."

"Then not at all. Rather, you should be concerned that you alone can hear me."

"It's about Uncle Sam. You're almost certainly right; the eagle says that the new fellow smells terrible and that he hasn't seen Uncle Sam since the seventies."

"Sam takes it hard when the country he represents lets him down. After President Andrew Johnson reversed Special Field Order Fifteen he spent the rest of the Reconstruction era doing farm work for freedmen."

"I take back half of the rude thoughts I've had about him."

Alan nods. "I didn't really believe him when he said what he was when we met back in the forties, but it sounds like he was a better man than I thought he was."

"Can you give us any idea where he is now? Or who it is that's trying to replace him?"

"You know who it is. You've spoken to them directly, something few others have."

"I.. talk to a lot of people."

"Who would take a beautiful dream and turn it into something tawdry?"

"Most people? One thing I have in common with-. You haven't seen John Constantine, have you?"

"No, not him. Though if you see him, punch him in the crotch for me."

"No queue jumping. But seriously, I've got no idea who you're talking about. I meet a lot of people who'd like to infiltrate a government. If you're implying that he's some sort of Reach infiltrator, then I'll fly over and kill him right now-"

"Paul?"

"-because that would be the best thing to do, Blue Lantern, and I'll show you the intelligence files later if you want proof."

"I don't know what a 'Reach Infiltrator' is, but that isn't it."

"Then why are you hesitating to say his na-? You think he'll hear you. But my tattoos mean that he can't hear me. Which implies global-. America-wide arcane reach, and an interest in political corruption and manipulation. Now that the First is out of the way, those are two groups with a one-name overlap, if we're talking about a single individual."

"We are."

Alan frowns. "Who's she talking about, then?"

"Blue Lantern, have you had magic-defying runes cut into your soul when I wasn't looking?"

"Well, no, but I'm wearing one of your wards."

"I'd rather not risk it." I look up at the eagle, who is currently shaking his tail feathers at his fans. "Eagle, we know who's doing it."

"About time!"

He salutes his crowd, then drops down to land on a perch Alan's generating.

"Who is it?"

"Allegedly, the Prince of the World. That git arranged for my first death, so I-."

"My God!"

What's Alan-?

Oh.

The giant yellow face now affixed to the Statue of Liberty regards me impassively for a moment.

"I see what you were trying, but any of my chosen appellations work as a notarikon of my true name. Which means that I can hear them. Goodbye, Lanterns and turkey."

 

[Mr Zoat]

Twilight, Local Time

Guh!

A painfully laboured breath, then I take a moment to mutter swears that would sear a saint's ears at everyone involved in this whole fucking fiasco. And because I'm not John Gadzooking Constantine I don't forget to include myself in that.

But I don't insult whoever it was that designed Belle Reve's magic cells. That was good. Damn good. Heh.

I reach across to my jacket pocket without really thinking about it, feeling for a packet of Silk Cuts and finding only my own bare chest.

Shit, yeah. That's the downside. Couldn't find a way past the spells and couldn't just ride out on synchronicity wave because it turns out that demons can't do that. All the memories he left me with, the one he used so much that he couldn't keep it from me, and it's sodding useless. Couldn't make a deal with the guards because they've go around in groups of four and they got remote monitoring. Couldn't summon help, not with all the wards they had up. Couldn't force my way out.

But I'm a demon. All I had to do to get free was die. Create a feedback loop in the spells the Atlanteans put on the chains wasn't easy, but… I'm a demon. Drain too much magic away and I just fall apart, which would normally send me right down to the bottom of the heap down under. Not a good place to be.

But a few drops of blood hidden away somewhere and that's an anchor. A demon glyph to draw power from some kind of old ritual murder no one remembers, and I'm back.

Naked, broke, hungry, thirsty, achy, and… Hell, I don't even know what the date is. Probably cold, but that sort of thing doesn't bother me anymore.

I take a moment to let a good long frustrated breath out from between my teeth.

That's it for Satanus, then. No more Colin Thornton means no more DMN junkies, no more free cash and no more cover from other big dogs looking to put the bite on someone with John's face. Satanus might get out and he might claw his way back up the hierarchy in Hell, but that's not going to happen soon.

I turn in the direction I vaguely remember the closest village being and start walking. There's brambles and a bunch of other angry plants I've never learned the names of, but I've walked from one end of Hell to the other. My feet do what I tell them.

What am I even going to do now?

I was just doing favours for Satanus so he'd owe me. His chance of getting power in Hell is… Probably better than the other high up demons doing it. But one sniff of John…

And then there's the other bloke.

I made a deal. I wanted to be me, he wanted to be him. He's keeping away from me and we've both got a reason to keep that up. Which is the best way to do it. But with John not around I'm comparing what I'm doing to what he's doing-.

Is this how John felt about it? I was getting a grip on… I thought I was getting a grip on him, with him not around and me…

If John's not around, why not just take his life? Not like it's hard, and I'm already John-shaped. One part of his soul running down the John-shaped furrow in the world rather than the other.

So what the fuck am I doing here? If I'm going to be John, I need to go be miserable in London, feeling all of the pain and misery that makes up that place. Where I can get a crap beer with crap service and be pissed enough not to care.

Fuck me, I think I can hear a road. Don't know who's driving around at this time of night, but I can get people to do what I want as easy as he can.

No, hang on. Favours.

I stop, looking around for-. That'll do. A tree with bark flat enough to write on. No pen, nothing in me stomach, ground is… Cold and dry. Runes drawn in mud are shit, anyway.

My own blood it is, then.

I walk up to the tree, putting my right forefinger in my mouth and biting the soft skin. My teeth are sharper and my blood more magical than John's, so this shouldn't be quite as difficult as it was for him. There's a few demons who should answer me without too much grief, but right now I'm vulnerable, and the list of demons I can trust not to take the piss…

Is about one.

At least her being on Earth means I don't need to summon up the energy to let her out.

It takes effort to stop my blood from clotting, and add a little something to stop anyone I don't want hearing this… Probably. The way people are learning magic right now I can't rely on that. Only good thing is Atlanteans don't have much to do with demons -or British street magicians- if they can help it.

Fuck me I'm tired.

I slump down, the blood from my finger wound trickling onto the ground. I take a moment to focus and the cut closes. Alright, the walk and the spell wiped me out, but it's not like I can die.

Rest my eyes for a minu-

FLASH!

-tefuck! I shield my eyes with both arms as the whole area goes violet and-.

And it's like a scab getting knocked off my soul, and all the things about Kit that John gave me as a sop before he packed me off to Hell come flooding to the surface and all the weakness I tried to bury comes rushing back and I'm crying and I don't even have proper tear ducts anymore.

"John, whatever happened to you? Are you alright?"

"Knock it off, Elle."

She had been reaching out, but now she hesitates.

"Oh. It's you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"John isn't exactly an easy man to get along with, and you're made of the worst parts of him."

She folds her arms across her chest, and my memories of his meetings with her mean I spot straight away that for once she's not doing it to emphasise her breasts. And her clothes… Elle wasn't an all-tart all the time sort of hellwhore, but her conservative clothing seems to fit in a way it usually didn't. Something John did, but what? There's a few magicians who've sent sex demons to nunneries before, but they weren't trying to convert the demons. And Elle…

Oh that's her game. I make myself stop blocking the memories, remembering that brief period of his life when it was all coming together. Simple domestic stuff that he'd never had before and that meant so much. And now she's looking at him curiously.

"Not just the worst parts, then. Why are you here?"

"Long story. You got a spare jacket or something?"

"Why would you-? You're naked?"

"Long story."

"Here."

She takes it off and tosses it to me. I-. Steady, stand up and put it on. It's too tight, but at least I could sneak into town without getting arrested right away.

"Cheers. Any idea what day it is?"

"Sixth of January."

Over a month. Heat should have died down a bit, and it's not like I left the stove on.

"Alright. Thanks. I owe you. Point me at the nearest town and I'll get out of you-."

"I'm not letting you out of my sight."

 

[Mr Zoat]

6th January 2012
07:30 CTZ

Clothes bought from a tramp. The other diners are giving me dirty looks, but all Elle has to do is meet their eyes and they turn away, feeling guilty about getting irritated about what is clearly a nice Christian act of charity.

John didn't mind owing people. I'm a demon, and right now I'm on the wrong end of this transaction.

"What happened in Fawcett City, John?"

Well there's no point in lying, is there?

"Satanus gave me a job offer. He was trying to get made King of Hell, needed to convince the rest of the demon upper crust to go along with it."

"And so you tried to murder an entire city?"

Bit rich her coming on all high and mighty, but they haven't served breakfast yet.

"So I helped him do something he was going to do anyway, only a bit more subtly than he was originally planning. And I got out of Hell, which made it all worth while."

"You don't like Hell?"

No harm in explaining, I suppose.

"How long was I down there, before I became a demon?"

"Oh. Not long enough."

"Yeah. When John made me, he used his own demon-tainted blood to hold me together. Nergal's blood. Which let me use Hell's magic but doesn't exactly make me a native. And then his plan was for me to bind the soul of some damned arsehole to me and dump all the torment on him. Which worked just fine until some bastard did a séance and summoned him up. And then it hit me."

She doesn't look impressed.

"We all go through that. Even the ones who used to be angels had to fall and burn and suffer before they adjusted."

"Doesn't make it right."

Her eyes dip, and she's thinking about… Well, probably hundreds of things. What happened with Tali first of all.

John kept his empathy, but I don't actually enjoy people suffering. Not if I don't already hate them. She does, or… Did.

"What happened to you, anyway?"

"You want to know why I ended up in Hell? I barely remember."

"The violet thing. You don't feel like yourself."

"John and the Orange Lantern offered me power as a bribe to stay out of their way. It changed me. I'm not even really a succubus any more."

Huh. Possible, I suppose. Converting one type of power into another. That's basically what becoming a demon involves, but…

"How?"

"A spell focused through a piece of crystallised love. So you're out of luck."

"Why's that, then?"

"It was my love for Tali that let it work. They can't just grab a demon and change them, or they would already have done. If John gave you all his worst characteristics -and I can barely believe that there was anything left- then there's no way that-."

"I've been in love."

I mostly say it because I don't like people saying that I'm limited. Yeah, yeah, that's the only reason why I said it. Having the ability to feel human emotions mostly removed isn't something I've ever learned to live with. I don't have John's ability to read people because I can't really empathise with most things regular people feel. Which means that I only understand total bastards and him.

But I repeat meself.

"Why would John have given you any of his memories he actually liked?"

"Because it was the only way to convince me to kill meself and complete the ritual. If I didn't feel any affection for anyone I'd have told him to fuck off."

"I know John's girlfriends. Which one?"

"Kit Ryan, if you must know."

We've been leaning towards each other, and we both lean back as the waiter appears with our breakfasts. I'm playing up the homeless angle with a full fry up while Elle's just having bacon and eggs. He doesn't look at me more than he has to in order to aim the plate at the table, but his gaze lingers on Elle and she gets a warm smile.

She nods.

"Thank you."

"No problem ma'am. Enjoy your breakfast."

I've already gotten scrambled egg and fried slice on my fork and into my mouth. They hadn't quite worked out how to feed us at Belle Reve, and for a demon like me it's not just about shoving fuel down my throat. This egg was freshly cracked, and destroying chicken ovum is ritualistically empowering.

The waiter heads back to the counter and I lean forward again, mantling my food and keeping knife and fork going all the while.

"Have you seen her?"

"What?"

"Since you got back on Earth. Have you visited her?"

"Oh yeah, she'll be dead pleased to see me."

Him. Just another reason it pisses me off, really. I haven't actually had a relationship with her. She's literally the only person I could even think of being involved with. If I-.

But if Satanus is in prison… And I'm on Earth. People are looking for me, but dodging-. Most of them's easy enough.

"You know… They could do for you what they did for me."

"Doesn't seem likely."

But it could. More to the point, I've got John's memories of people back on the other side of the Atlantic. I know spells that'll let me… Absorb parts of John from the environment. Become… Something more like a whole person, even if the new parts are made of John.

Cheryl's back over there. And the other one's not going to care about her.

"She might."

John doesn't need his life or his messes any more. And if he doesn't need it, I suppose I might as well take it like everything else he didn't need.

Or maybe I just want it to be true.

"She might. She might at that."

7th November 2012
10:06 GMT -5

The old wizard stops whatever spell he was casting and grabs his headset.

"Orange Lantern? Blue Lantern?"

"Doubt they'll help, mate."

"What have you done, demon?"

"Held back things you didn't know to ask about. How about we make a deal?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

7th November 2012
Roughly 10:07 GMT -5

"Alan?"

"Yeah?"

I push myself off the ground, ignoring something semi-liquid sticking to my gauntlets and cuirass.

"You alright?"

"I've been better."

I look left and see Alan picking himself up slightly more gingerly, his back and left side soaked in the same stuff that my ring is now cleaning off me.

Oh, it's… Blood. A thin film of the stuff is spraying down from somewhere above us. Frowning slightly, I generate a construct umbrella and set my environmental shield to clean me off. Alan copies me, though his umbrella is more classic and less aerodynamic.

"You mind cleaning me off?"

I raise my left hand, a beam of orange playing over him and pushing the blood down like a window washer's scraper pushing suds off a window.

"Thanks. That was bringing back some very uncomfortable memories."

"Happy to help."

I look around. It looks like we're still on Liberty Island, though I'm a bit worried about…

Oh.

The torch of the Statue of Liberty appears to have been replaced by a sprinkler, coating the entire island, a swath of the sea and part of the mainland with a fine misting of vitae. New York itself appears to have been replaced by… Gotham? No, not gothic enough. Hub..?

No. Blüdhaven. Looks like Blüdhaven. Which might explain why no one's shouting about the rain of blood: they're used to it.

Boss Smiley's face is still there, big and yellow, but it doesn't look animated any longer. I fly up, and… No, no reaction. The dimensions of the hands and feet have changed a little and-. The date on the tablet now reads August MDCXIX, which is probably an important date in American history.

"Where did that eagle fellah go?" Alan floats up behind me. "Did he come with us?"

"Don't know. Eagle!?"

"Where is here, anyhow? That doesn't look much like New York to me."

"Rough guess, this is a part of America's collective psyche. Maybe another part of the Heartland-."

I take a closer look at the Statue's tiara.

"There he is."

I drift closer, peering in through one of the glassless window to where the eagle is hunched up in one corner, shivering and fluffing his feathers up.

"Eagle?"

"We're in the bad place we're in the bad place…"

"Is he okay?"

"Alan, I would never normally suggest this, but I think we might need to cheer him up by singing uplifting American patriotic music."

"You must be desperate." He floats up alongside me "Maybe a dead mouse or something?"

"It may surprise you to hear this, but I don't routinely carry dead mice around with me."

"You don't?" He.. actually sounds surprised. "I just thought you had one of everything in there."

"No, because sustaining a larger subspace volume slightly reduced my maximum charge. I try to only carry things I've got a reasonable chance of needing. Usually, I can just fabricate food, but…" I look up at the blood fountain. "I'm a little worried about the sort of spiritual energy it would pick up around here."

Alan flies right up to the window before awkwardly clambering inside. The room inside looks tatty but basically structurally sound, as if… Someone deliberately built the interior to look untidy and it's setting off my OCD.

"Hey, buddy." Alan kneels down next to the clearly freaked out eagle. "You doing okay there?"

"We're in the bad place! We're in the bad place. And that's really bad."

"Okay, can you tell us about it?"

"This is the opposite of the Heartland!"

"Like, the..? The Lungland?"

"What?" The eagle raises his head slightly above his wings so that he can stare at Alan. "What? How is a lung the opposite-?"

"Footland?"

"No-! Like… Like blackhear-rrrrrr…" … "Evil Heartland."

"I'm going to guess that while the Heartlands is a sort of idealised America, this is the less optimistic place."

"Yeah." The eagle nods. "All of the worst bits and the worst interpretation of the rest with none of the positive bits."

"Is it dangerous to you?"

"It's dangerous to all of us. But… No, just being here won't hurt me. But the locals will know that I don't belong here."

"Good show. What locals are we-?"

Something taps on the left side of my helmet. Unlike my heavy armour which doesn't have a separate headpiece, my current generation light armour's helmet let's me look left and right without compromising the protection. So I turn my head, and am greeted by the face of a bird.

"Still alive then? Okay. Let me know if that changes."

"Oh no."

I narrow my eyes. "And what are you supposed to be?"

"Oh, you know. This and that. Don't mind me."

"She's the Vulture of Death!"

"No I'm not." She looks away for a moment. "Scavengers have an important role in the ecosystem, I'll have you know. We don't usually kill things ourselves."

"Someone else does all the work and you get all the benefit!"

Alan looks at the vulture. "You two know each other?"

"Oh. You know." The vulture ruffles her wings. "It's the Nixon-Kennedy thing. 'When they see you, they see what they want to be. When they see me, they see what they are.' We're naturally antithetical. He bangs on about freedom. I just do my thing."

"Eagle, if you want to get out, you need to pull yourself together. You've crashed, there was no parachute, but you're still alive. Do you want to stay that way? Do you want to rescue Sam?"

"Yeah." The eagle straightens up slightly, then flaps its wings and flies over to perch on the edge of the tiara window. "But this is going to be hard."

 

[Mr Zoat]

7th November 2012
Roughly 10:16 GMT -5

"Eagle, vulture, any idea how we get back to the material world?"

The eagle's back on Alan's perch, but he's slightly hunched over and his head jerks around to stare in a new direction every few seconds. Since we have no idea where we're going Alan and I opted to take position directly above the Liberty Fountain-.

"And you don't think this is the blood of patriots and tyrants, do you?"

Alan frowns. "Patriots and-? Oh. I'm not sure that fits, thematically. Americans are supposed to be willing to bleed to see tyrants brought down, it's virtuous behavior. I think it's more likely to be the blood of innocents ground under wheels, something like that."

I turn my head to look at the vulture on my pauldron, who ruffles her wings.

"I don't usually ask where the blood comes from."

"I thought that vultures could smell corpses from a mile away."

"Corpses generally stay in one place, and by the time they're dead enough to smell the bleeding has generally stopped. Kind of why I was hanging around here, actually. If I see something bleeding this much it usually means that something is about to die and it's time to short it."

"Short it-?" Ugh. "You're the Vulture of Freedom, because in a free economy asset stripping and short selling and debt loading are viable strategies, even if they're harmful to society as a whole."

"I don't kill things. But if they're dying anyway, why not fill my beak?"

The eagle actually perks up, staring at.. either me or the vulture.

"She is death! Death!"

Alan chuckles quietly to himself, prompting the three of us to turn and give him a funny look. He just shrugs.

"Oh, come on Paul. How many new experiences do you think I get at my age? It's not all positive, but… What was it you said? When I'm confronted by evil, I will rejoice, because when I'm done with the evil then it won't be there any more." He looks over at the city. "This place is a mess. But if it's literally the worst parts of American history made manifest… What happens when we fix it?"

"I think it's meant to be broken."

He looks a little disappointed. "Well, now. That doesn't sound like you. What happens to America if we change things around here?"

"We… Mind control an entire country, which is something I'd rather avoid doing."

He frowns. "Is that how it works?"

"This place is a representation of the American psyche, right?"

"Ah."

"Now, the influence is probably two-way at this point, so we can probably justify some improvements, but I don't want to root-and-branch the whole place."

"No, I… You're probably right. So, any idea how to get out?"

The eagle shrugs. "Normally, you find a site of spiritual significance and make a ritualistic connection. But that Prince of the World thing forced us through."

"Whow whow whow." The vulture fans out her wings and then goes rather still. "The Prince sent you here?"

Alan nods. "That's right."

"You're not getting out, then. This is his place. He controls the ways in and out."

"This is the bad place!"

Alan strokes the eagle's head in what I imagine is supposed to be a reassuring way. It doesn't appear to be helping.

"Paul, any ideas?"

"I imagine that-. Okay, before we go any further, did you read my report of my meeting with Boss Smiley?"

"Ah… Yeah, but I don't remember all the details."

"He claimed to be an arcane life form devoted to controlling humanity by limiting our development. He offered me a deal where I could develop all of the technology I want with his institutional aid but he would control what went mainstream."

"So we find him and beat him up?"

"If it were that simple I'd have already done it. He's nebulous, hard enough to pin down that even the angels weren't sure that he even really exists." Great. "At least we know who's replaced Uncle Sam; the living embodiment of political corruption. Vulture, does he actually..? Have a physical form here?"

"Maybe."

"'Maybe' as in you want something for telling us, or 'maybe' as in you don't know?"

"'Maybe' as in I'm only here so I can eat you when you die. I'm not about to share what I know about the god of my conceptual world because that sounds like a good way to have a little accident."

"Do you know Professor Demetrios Prokopios?"

"No?"

"He's the man who protects Earth's economy from people like you. Not always successfully, but well enough to keep things functioning in a nearly-sane way. He's a friend of mine. So I'm pretty sure that he'd be rather happy if I removed you as a problem."

"You can't risk it. And you don't want to mind control people."

"Ah, it's about judging the greatest risk to people. And I don't need to kill you, not when I've got an orange power ring. I can just convert you into orange light. Or brand you into compliance and then undo it once we're finished. I don't think that would cause lasting harm, but given what you are I don't think I'd mind too much if it did."

The vulture peers into my eyes for a moment, then cringes slightly. "I can respect a strong negotiating position. He's strongest at focuses of political power."

"Washington."

"The First of the Fallen used to come here, in the guise of Abraham Lincoln. He hasn't been here recently-."

"And he won't be back."

"Boss Smiley's people don't appear when he's around."

"His people?"

"I don't know what they are, exactly. His favourites. The aspects of corruption that he likes the most."

"And what can they do?"

"Anything. This is their place. Everything here's as bad as Boss Smiley likes it to be, which is pretty bad."

Right. Conceptual realm, conceptual beings. We can… Probably only beat them by playing their game better than them.

Alan nods. "But we can get out in Washington?"

"Rule by force is a pretty normal thing, here. If you can pull it off then you've been vicious enough to demand it."

"Then I guess that's where we're going."

"Yes, but after I find out where this blood is coming from."

I angle myself to fly down, then stop when I feel Alan's hand on my shoulder.

"Ah, Paul? Maybe you shouldn't do that."

 

[Mr Zoat]

7th November 2012
Roughly 10:20 GMT -5

I stop, then turn back towards him.

"Why not? I mean, it's right there, and that much blood can't be healthy."

"Do you think it's coming from John Constanteen?"

"Ah, no, but-. Ah, it's pronounced 'Constantine'."

"Okay, Constantine. You know he's not in there, don't you?"

"Yes?"

"And Uncle Sam probably isn't either?"

"Probably not. If he'd lost that much blood I think he'd be dead. Eagle?"

"Oh yeah, dead. He can take a licking but he's only got the same amount of blood as a normal person."

"Right. And that Smiler guy isn't either. This place…" He turns his head to look at the city, then raises it slightly to try and see beyond it. "It's some sort of American nightmare, but it was here yesterday and it'll probably be here tomorrow. Maybe it would be better to stay on-task."

"Yeeeeaaah but… It's just, that can't be a good sign, right?"

"Probably not. But the way I see it, there's always going to be a worst thing about a place, and we can't change history. If we can't risk fixing the whole place then it's best to just keep going." He give me a sly smile. "Besides, don't you wanna give Smiley a blacker eye for getting you killed?"

"My death was temporary. The damage he's doing to the psyche of the human species is ongoing." I glance at the torch, but he's right. That's not of primary importance right now.

Wait a moment.

"Doctor Mist called you in, didn't he?"

"You just repainted the Statue of Liberty, Paul."

"I cleaned it! The green colour was from the rust!"

"And that's why the Justice League has a Paul Protocol."

I throw my arms up in delight! "YES!"

Alan frowns, puzzled. "Ah… I don't think I understand what you're so happy about."

"How many people can say that the Justice League have a plan specifically to deal with them?"

"A.. few dozen..? Mostly bad guys?"

I nod, still smiling. "Exactly. Washington DC next?"

"I…" Alan considers for a moment, then nods. "Can't hurt."

"Eagle? Vulture? Any anti-air weapons along the way we should worry about?"

The eagle shrugs. "I don't know. I make a point of not coming here."

"There's a metaphor about people with different points of view not talking to each other, there. Vulture?"

The vulture nods. "Washington is defended by the entire Military Industrial Complex. Weapon emplacements as far as the eye can see. Let me know when you get into range, so I can hop off and get first dibs on your remains."

Alan nods. "How about if we come in from above?"

"You could, but you'd have to avoid the Star Wars Defence Platforms."

"Underground?"

"Putrid worms. They're pretty common in Washington. They hide underground so that no one can see-."

"Yes, thank you, I worked that one out."

Alan nods. "So how do we get in there?"

The vulture ruffles her feathers. "Be a vulture? They don't bother me."

"Could we sneak in?"

"I don't know. I've never tried." … "Because I'm a vulture."

"Okay, well I don't feel like trying to fight some sort of magic reflection of America's military power. How about you?"

The eagle shakes its head. "No. Do you think we could inspire them to side with the real America?"

An interesting question, and one I started wondering about when I read The Ultimates. Skrulls infiltrate the Pentagon and give one set of orders to the American military. Then Captain America gets on the radio and asks for backup, and he's the one they choose to obey. A bit Great Manny, maybe, but it showed people doing what they thought was right rather than what they were supposed to. But…

"I don't think that's how things work here. But I suppose that we won't know until we get a closer look. If we fly that way slowly we should get some warning before we reach their cordon."

Alan nods. "Alright. South west, or along the coast?"

"Given how big the American navy is, I'd have thought that directly west and then directly south would be best."

"Over New York?"

Ah… "Vulture, how high up do you have to be before the Star Wars Defence Platform starts shooting?"

"I'm a black vulture, not a fried chicken."

Alan and I look at each other, then we both raise construct shields over the group, the eagle immediately jumping off his perch and awkwardly hovering in the exact centre of the shielded area.

And then we're off, the streets of Evil New York passing beneath us. They're like… Every idea of what grim and decaying tenements would look like, but taller and built along narrower streets and… I think the roof is bigger than the ground floor?

Alan's head jerks around as he spots something. "Did you see that?"

"See what?"

"Someone was trying to climb out of that.. window, and it kinda… Swallowed them back up."

"Vulture, are there any real people here?"

"I think of myself as a real person, yes."

"Material people, or are they all manifestations of the American psyche?"

"I think it's just you. But I haven't looked everywhere."

"Which means that's probably a living metaphor for… Poverty? Violent communities? So if as a general policy we're not touching anything we don't have to…"

"Yeah. It's just… Seeing folks in need and not stepping in…"

"Not the heroic thing to do, I know. But like you said…"

"Yeah. I kinda wanna have it out with that Smiley guy, too."